^ 


W'J  -Dawson 


/<^  .^^.1  3 


LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

Presented  by 


BV  4310  .D37  1889 

Dawson,  William  James,  1854 

1928. 
The  threshold  of  manhood 


THRESHOLD     OF    MANHOOD. 


:<^v^ 


THE  ^<iO[nr 


THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


A  YOUNG  MAN'S  WORDS  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


BY 

/ 
W.    J.    DAWSON, 

JkUTHOR  or  "a  vision  of  souls;  with  other  ballads  and  poems," 

<*  QUEST  AND  VISION  :  ESSAYS  IM  UF£  AND  LITERATURE,"  ETC. 


NEW  YORK: 
A.    C.    ARMSTRONG    AND    SON, 

714,  BROADWAY. 


PREFACE. 


THE  sermons  in  this  volume,  with  one  or  two  ex- 
ceptions, have  been  especially  addressed  to  young 
men.  For  five  years,  while  resident  in  London,  and 
particularly  in  the  latter  portion  of  that  time,  my 
ministry  gave  me  special  contact  with  young  men,  and 
my  previous  sympathies  were  greatly  quickened  by 
the  closer  knowledge  I  then  gained  of  the  temptations, 
struggles,  and  needs  of  city  youth.  I  found  that 
wherever  there  was  any  honest  attempt  made  to  deal 
with  their  intellectual  difficulties,  and  wherever  there 
was  manifested  an  understanding  sympathy  of  their 
social  needs,  there  was  a  frank  and  even  affectionate 
response  accorded.  The  life  of  a  young  man  in  a 
great  city  is  often  one  of  the  loneliest  of  lives.  He 
has  comrades,  but  few  friends ;  many  companions,  but 
scarcely  one  counsellor.  He  has  left  the  safe  anchor- 
age of  home,  and  is  often  half-intoxicated  with  the 
sense  of  his  unrestrained  liberty.  At  the  most  critical 
and  susceptible  period  of  life  he  is  most  solitary,  most 
left  to  himself,  and  least  guarded  against  the  seductions 
of  impure  delight.  This  period  of  life  is  the  Threshold 
of  Manhood. 


PREFACE, 


The  two  things  most  needed  at  such  a  time  are  the 
friendly  aid  of  a  thoroughly  honest  and  manly  piety, 
and,  if  possible,  the  social  rallying-point  of  Christian 
club  or  home  life.  It  is  a  question  which  religious 
households  in  great  cities  should  discuss,  whether  it 
is  not  their  bounden  duty  to  open  their  doors  freely 
to  this  crowd  of  young  strangers  who  surround  them ; 
for  to  be  cut  off  from  the  society  of  good  women  in 
the  early  stage  of  manhood  is  an  unspeakable  mis- 
fortune. It  is  a  yet  more  urgent  question  whether 
the  Churches  should  not  provide  in  every  city  social 
centres  for  young  manhood.  I  do  not  mean  one  or 
two  huge  institutions  such  as  we  now  possess.  I 
mean  numerous  homes  and  clubs,  where  young  men 
coming  up  in  search  of  situations  could  find  help, 
welcome,  and  accommodation,  and  where  after  business 
hours  they  could  gather  in  genial  social  intercourse. 
Some  social  stimulant  the  young  nature  craves,  and 
must  have.  If  the  Churches  do  not  provide  it,  the 
music-hall  will. 

I  make  no  apology  for  the  nature  of  these  addresses. 
They  retain  the  form  of  spoken  counsels  and  appeals. 
Except  by  the  occasional  alteration  of  a  phrase  I  have 
not  attempted  to  recast  them  into  a  more  literary 
mould.  I  simply  seek  by  their  publication  a  yet 
larger  congregation  than  any  I  have  talked  with  face 
to  face. 

W.  J.  DAWSON. 

Glasgow,  1889. 


CONTENTS 


I. 

PAGE 

DECISION     •^•••••I«Z 

II. 
A  YOUNG  man's  DIFFICULTIES      •  •  Z  »  •      20 

III. 
ON   IMPULSE  AND   OPPORTUNITY  .  •  •  •  •      41 

IV. 
THE   TESTIMONY   OF   FACT     ••••••      62 

V. 

WHAT   IT  IS  THAT  ENDURES  •  •  •  •  «      83 

VI. 

PURITY  •••••••••   102 

VII. 
THE  SIN   OF  ESAU         *.•••••   X20 


vui  CONTENTS. 

VIII. 

PAGE 

SINS   OF  SILENCE  •••••••   I4T 

IX. 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  JUDAS  •  •  •  •  .  160 

X, 

JOB  ON  PESSIMISM        •  •  •  •  •  •  •182 

XI. 
NATHAN  AND  DAVID    •••••••   I98 

XII. 
THE  IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH         .214 

XIII. 
THE  FATHERHOOD  OF  GOD  .«§•••  236 

XIV. 
THE  USE  OF  MYSTERY  •  «  1  I  1  \   2K(i 


T. 

DECISION, 

"How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions?  If  the  Lord  be  God 
follow  Him  :  but  if  Baal,  then  follow  him.  And  the  people  answered 
him  not  a  word." — l  Kings  xviii.  21, 

THIS  scene  is  one  of  the  most  memorable  and 
striking  in  history.  It  represents  one  of  those 
great  culminating  points  when  life  suddenly  becomes 
dramatic,  when,  as  it  were,  the  confused  groups  of  men 
and  women  on  the  stage  of  life  suddenly  shift  them- 
selves into  place  and  position,  and  the  curtain  rises  on 
the  acts  of  great  tragedy.  Such  culminations  occur 
also  in  the  individual  life,  when  the  still  river  of 
our  days  deepens,  and  rushes  on  in  loud  thunder, 
and  all  our  scattered  energies  become  concentrated  in 
one  vast  struggle.  In  such  moments  life  is  felt  to  be 
infinitely  significant,  and  we  know  that  it  fulfils  itself 
in  the  open  eye  of  the  angel-crowded  heavens.  In 
such  moments  the  character  of  coming  centuries  is 
determined,  and  individual  destiny  is  sealed  and  fixed. 
What,  then,  are  the  elements  which  constitute  this 
great  scene  ?  First  of  all,  you  look  upon  the  vision  of 
a  whole  nation  gone  astray,  blinded  by  sensuality, 
swept  into  the  swift  hells  of  a  privileged  licentiousness. 

I 


THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


The  doctrine  of  philosophic  historians  to-day  is  that 
certain  nations  have  been  raised  up  to  perform  certain 
missions,  and  perhaps  on  no  other  hypothesis  can  the 
mystery  of  the  dispersal  of  the  human  family  so  well 
find  solution.  The  mission  of  the  Jewish  nation  was 
to  enforce  belief  in  the  one  spiritual  and  invisible 
Jehovah,  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords.  Amid  the 
vile  and  endless  degradations  of  universal  idolatry, 
they  kept  the  light  of  a  pure  theocracy  burning ;  and 
the  Jew  has  done  more  for  the  world  by  his  piety 
than  the  Greek  by  his  culture,  or  the  Roman  by  his 
civilisation.  But  ever  and  again  in  Jewish  history 
there  came  times  when  a  black  mist  of  all  but  universal 
apostasy  fell  upon  the  land,  and  quenched  the  light 
upon  its  altars,  and  filled  the  temples  with  a  desolating 
gloom.  Such  a  time  had  now  come.  A  corrupt  court 
had  produced  a  corrupt  people ;  and  every  bond  of 
morality,  of  patriotism,  of  spirituality,  was  strained  or 
broken.  One  man  only,  and  he  a  wild  man  of  the 
desert,  remained  faithful,  and  set  him.self  Vv'ith  magni- 
ficent valour  against  king,  and  court,  and  people.  Far 
away  from  the  false  and  fevered  life  of  cities,  he  wor- 
shipped where  the  stars  shone  like  the  altar-lights  of 
heaven,  where  the  free  air  blew,  and  the  heaUng  silence 
taught  serenity.  He  knew  that  Jehovah  was  God,  for 
His  voice  had  reached  him  in  the  thunder,  and  the 
whirlwind,  and  the  fire.  He  knew  that,  gild  an  idol 
how  you  will,  it  is  an  idol  still,  and  has  eyes  that 
cannot  see  and  mouth  that  is  a  carven  dumbness. 
He  knew  another  thing:  that   this  invisible  Jehovah 


DECISION. 


demanded  truth  to  the  innermost  convictions  at  all 
costs ;  so  he  built  upon  the  granite  of  his  own  indi- 
viduality, and  dared  to  be  original  when  originality 
meant  death.  He  was,  in  a  word,  a  strong  man,  "  in 
whom  the  light  of  hope  burned  when  it  had  gone  out 
in  others  ; "  and  such  men,  the  Elijahs  and  the  Daniels, 
the  Luthers  and  the  Knoxes,  though  they  be  discarded 
prophets  and  derided  martyrs,  are  the  saviours  of  the 
people  who  spit  upon  and  mock  them,  and  the  glory 
of  the  lands  which  spill  their  blood  in  sacrifice. 

How  the  pulse  quickens  as  we  read  the  story  I  In 
his  splendid  isolation  stands  this  one  man  against  king, 
court,  and  nation.  For  three  years  he  has  been  a 
hunted  fugitive;  for  three  years  Jezebel  has  enjoyed 
her  wicked  triumph ;  but  this  one  man  is  unsubdued 
and  unsubduable.  At  last  he  comes  forth  from  his 
desert,  and  he  comes  like  a  thunderbolt.  He  bars  the 
way  of  the  king's  chariot  with  a  gesture,  and  silences 
him  with  one  stern  accusation  :  '*  Thou  and  thy  father's 
house  have  made  Israel  to  sin!"  Never  was  the 
fearlessness  of  right  so  splendidly  illustrated,  or  the 
impotence  of  evil  so  conclusively  exposed.  The  hunter 
is  dumb  before  his  prey ;  the  tyrant  quails  before  his 
victim.  There  is  a  royalty  in  righteousness  before 
which  all  other  royalty  is  but  tinsel ;  there  is  a  supre- 
macy in  goodness  which  strikes  the  wicked  dumb. 
Are  you  armed  with  that  supremacy  ?  Dare  you  stand 
fearless  in  the  right  though  the  heavens  fall  ?  Only 
then  is  a  man  invulnerable.  No  one  can  defeat  a  man 
who  is  in  the  right.     He  may  be  a  wild  man  of  the 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 


desert  and  stand  in  tattered  garb,  but  the  chariots  of 
wrong  stop  at  his  signal,  and  kings  fear  his  face. 
When  Elijah  says,  ''Call  all  Israel  together  to  Carmel," 
Ahab  knows  he  must  obey.  So  to  Carmel  Israel  is 
gathered ;  there  the  broken  altars  are  rebuilt,  and  there 
the  pregnant  question  of  my  text  is  put  to  the  vast 
multitude,  who  at  last,  when  the  fire  of  God  descends, 
cry  in  fearful  acquiescence  not  less  than  profound  con- 
viction, "  The  Lord,  He  is  the  God  !  The  Lord,  He  is 
the  God!" 

Now,  the  question  of  my  text  is  as  modern  as  if  it 
had  only  been  uttered  yesterday;  and  I  propose  to 
consider  the  abiding  elements  of  this  subject.  The 
transient  elements  peculiar  to  the  age  and  people  we 
may  dismiss.  What  is  the  modern  Baal  set  up  in  con- 
trast with  God  ?  What  are  the  issues  of  choice  which 
confront  us  to-day  ? 

First  of  all,  it  is  the  contrast  between  the  rectitude 
of  a  noble  character  and  the  impotence  of  characters 
in  a  state  of  moral  disintegration  ;  it  is  the  contrast 
between  righteousness  and  unrighteousness.  Ask  for  a 
moment,  What  was  Israel  in  its  best  and  noblest  days  ? 
It  was  a  people  permeated  with  the  love  of  righteous- 
ness. The  only  King  was  God.  His  unalterable  glory 
was  symbolised  in  the  awful  splendour  of  the  Shechinah, 
His  presence  in  the  pillar  and  the  cloud,  the  famine 
and  the  fire.  He  watched  His  people  and  rewarded 
them ;  He  punished  and  pursued  ;  He  blessed  and  Me 
blasted  ;  He  sent  them  hornets  and  angels.  Go  where 
they  would,  God  always  confronted  them,  and  could  as 


DECISION. 


little  be  escaped  as  the  heavens  which  closed  them 
round  or  the  air  from  which  they  drew  their  life. 
What  He  demanded  was  "  truth  in  the  inward  parts," 
righteousness  as  the  soul  of  public  life,  the  very  pulse 
of  daily  conduct.  Accordingly,  every  law  of  Israel 
was  framed  to  this  end.  Its  land-laws  were  equitable 
and  just.  Its  laws  for  personal  conduct  crushed  vice 
as  with  an  iron  foot,  and  built  up  the  sanctity  of  the 
home  and  the  chastity  of  the  individual.  The  poor 
were  covered  as  with  the  wing  of  God,  and  the 
orphaned  and  widowed  became  every  man's  care. 
Covetousness  and  avarice  were  penal  offences,  and  the 
sense  of  God  was  made  so  supreme  in  the  national 
conscience  that  every  man  felt  God  near  him  as  the 
awful  Witness  of  his  life  and  the  swift  Avenger  of  his 
wrong-doing.  Such  a  people  in  the  hour  of  battle 
could  not  but  be  supreme ;  they  moved  like  the  glitter- 
ing sword  of  God  among  the  demoralised  heathen 
peoples ;  they  were  the  Ironsides  of  ancient  times ; 
and  before  their  faith,  their  enthusiasm,  their  moral 
energy,  the  greatest  heathen  peoples  succumbed,  and 
the  fairest  portions  of  the  earth  became  their  heritage. 

Ask  what  Baal  meant  to  such  a  people,  and  the 
angry  voices  of  Hebrew  saint  and  prophet  answer  you 
in  many  a  grim  page  of  history  or  burning  chapter  of 
denunciation.  Baal  meant  the  vice,  the  licentiousness, 
the  moral  corruption,  which  Israel  had  been  raised  up 
to  destroy — an  obscured  vision  of  God,  a  debased 
moral  sense,  the  utter  loss  of  faith  and  spirituality. 
And  Baal  means  just  the  same   thing  to-day.     Look 


THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


around,  and  see  how  far  righteousness  is  the  common 
law  of  human  life.  Think  of  the  crowd  of  men  who 
have  no  vision  of  God,  because  they  have  thrown  down 
His  altars,  and  follow  the  fatal  feet  of  Mammon,  men 
whose  haste  is  to  be  rich,  and  not  to  walk  in  God's 
ways,  whose  fear  is  to  be  ill-fed,  and  not  to  do  evil, 
whose  hope  is  not  to  gain  the  imperishable  inheritance 
of  character,  but  some  perishable  spoil  snatched  from 
the  sordid  banquet  of  this  world's  pleasures.  It  matters 
little  to  them  that  once  there  was  a  Cross  upon  the 
earth,  that  still  it  gleams  on  city  dome  and  spire,  or 
that  others  have  laid  down  their  lives  to  win  them 
liberty  and  faith  ;  they  live  only  for  themselves.  They 
talk  loudly  of  their  duty  to  themselves,  and  ignore 
their  responsibilities  to  others ;  and  for  them  the  Cross 
is  but  a  legend,  and  its  sacrifice  a  sacred  myth.  They 
do  not  ask,  ''Is  it  right?"  but  "Will  it  pay?"  and  to 
the  "  Thou  God  seest  me"  which  has  been  the  secret 
of  a  thousand  noble  lives,  their  insolent  rejoinder  is, 
"  Does  God  indeed  know  ?  He  sleeps,  or  He  is 
journeying.  Let  us  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to- 
morrow we  die ! "  And  so,  because  the  noblest  of  all 
thoughts  has  passed  out  of  their  lives,  the  whole 
function  of  thought  is  vitiated,  and  the  moral  nature 
emasculated.  To  "get  on"  and  to  get  pleasure,  to 
escape  the  rough  places  of  Hfe,  to  live  out  of  reach  of 
its  miseries  and  out  of  hearing  of  its  voices  of  lamenta- 
tion and  appeal,  is  their  all-sufficing  aim  ;  and  in  follow- 
ing it  they  forget  the  living  God,  and  serve  that  Baal 
who  is  the  prince  of  the   power  of  the  air,  the   evil 


DECISIOir. 


spirit,  the  mocker  and  derider,  who  was  a  liar  from 
the  beginning,  and  the  relentless  murderer  of  every 
pure  ambition  and  unselfish  impulse  which  can  animate 
and  deify  the  life  of  man.  Righteousness  :  it  stands 
embodied  in  this  man,  pure,  strong,  valiant,  mightier 
than  kings,  invincible  because  consecrated  to  the 
service  of  the  most  high  God.  Unrighteousness  :  that, 
too,  is  embodied  in  a  weaic  king  seduced  by  an  evil 
woman,  in  a  people  who  have  thrown  off  the  fear  of 
God,  who  rise  up  to  play  and  lie  down  to  dream, 
dazzled  by  a  golden  idol  and  emasculated  by  its 
sensual  rites.  It  is  the  spectacle  which  every  century 
presents  to  the  youth  who  stands  upon  its  thresholds 
and  prepares  to  use  the  gift  of  years  which  God  has 
given  him  ;  and  from  the  slopes  of  Carmel  the  thunder 
of  that  valiant  voice  rolls  across  the  wastes  and  voids 
of  time,  where  the  bones  of  nations  which  have  for- 
gotten God  lie  piled  in  tragic  warning  :  "  How  long 
halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ? " 

It  is,  again,  the  contrast  between  purity  and  sensuality. 
It  was  the  sensual  pollutions  of  Baal  which  awoke  the 
most  terrible  denunciations  of  the  Hebrew  prophets, 
and  sensualit}'^  is  one  of  the  first  results  of  a  life  which 
has  lost  righteousness  of  thought.  Do  not  mistake  me. 
I  do  not  say  that  impurity  is  the  certain  or  inevitable 
result  of  loss  of  faith ;  but  I  do  say  that  the  man  who 
loses  righteousness  of  thought  at  least  challenges  the 
demon  of  sensuality  to  enter  in  and  possess  him.  Shall 
I  draw  a  modern  sketch  of  what  this  aspect  of  Baalism 
means  ?     It  is  a  task  I  would  thankfully  evade,  but  it 


THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


is  a  duty  from  which  the  minister  of  Christ  dare  not 
be  recreant.  It  is  a  story  with  which  every  student  of 
modern  Hfe  is  only  too  famiUar,  and  it  is  written  on  a 
thousand  broken  hearts  and  miserable  lives.  Here  is  a 
youth  reared  in  the  ordered  quiet  of  some  country  home, 
familiar  with  its  domestic  sanctities,  its  household 
affections  and  pieties.  At  length  he  leaves  the  home 
where  the  fragrance  of  prayer  and  love  has  sweet- 
ened daily  life,  and  enters  the  great  city;  and  then 
the  spell  of  Baal  begins  to  fall  on  him.  He  hears  in 
the  office,  the  warehouse,  the  shop,  stories  at  which  he 
blushes,  but  which  he  will  soon  learn  eagerly  to  devour 
without  blushing.  The  moral  sensitiveness  becomes 
deadened,  and  the  influence  of  comradeship  begins  to 
tell.  Through  the  ear-gate  the  enemy  enters  in,  and 
soon  the  citadel  is  captured.  One  by  one  his  small 
habitual  pieties  disappear  ;  the  Testament  his  mother 
gave  him  lies  unused  ;  the  habit  of  prayer  is  dropped, 
for  perhaps  he  shares  a  room  with  one  who  does  not 
pray,  and  how  difficult  it  is  to  pray  then  I  know  full 
well,  for  I  have  had  to  do  it.  In  a  few  weeks  the  work 
is  done ;  the  boy's  pure  imagination  is  polluted,  the 
boy's  blood  begins  to  riot  with  unholy  impulses,  and 
on  the  inward  ear  there  falls  more  clearly  and  resist- 
lessly  every  hour  the  delirious  whispers  and  suggestions 
of  impure  seduction.  He  begins  to  think  it  manly  to 
be  cynical,  and  clever  to  talk  of  women  in  Luch  a  way 
that  if  his  mother  heard  him  she  might  wish  that  she 
had  never  borne  him.  And  if  the  evil  goes  no  further, 
can  any  say  how  great  the  havoc  that  is  wrought  ?     Is 


DECISION. 


it  nothing  to  fill  the  memory  with  unclean  suggestions? 
Have  you  not  found  that  the  memory  holds  such  images 
with  a  strange  tenacity  ?  Would  not  some  of  you 
gladly  give  a  year  of  life  if  you  could  rid  yourselves 
of  foul  and  leprous  ideas  eagerly  and  ignorantly  imbibed 
in  younger  days  ?  Oh,  I  could  tell  you  of  many  a 
man  who  has  come  to  me,  men  educated  in  great 
colleges,  lovers  of  right,  seekers  after  truth,  but  almost 
in  despair  because  their  memories  seemed  poisoned 
with  impure  jests  which  they  could  not  forget,  and 
which  haunted  them  like  whispers  of  the  pit.  And  I 
need  not  add  that  such  moral  deterioration  seldom  stops 
with  the  thought  :  it  is  incarnated  in  the  life.  And  if 
I  fill  in  my  sketch  aright,  I  must  speak  of  things  scarcely 
lawful  for  a  man  to  utter  :  I  must  track  this  youth  to 
the  chambers  of  iniquity;  I  must  picture  his  first  shamed 
plunge  into  vice ;  I  must  show  the  gradual  hardening 
of  the  heart,  and  darkening  of  the  mind,  and  maiming 
of  the  V,  ill,  till  unchastity  becomes  a  law,  and  impurity 
an  impious  and  despotic  master.  You  have  heard  the 
story  of  Frankenstein  :  how  a  great  chemist  strives  to 
make  a  man,  and  builds  the  physical  frame  up  bone  by 
bone,  and  sinew  by  sinew,  and  at  last  finds  some  occult 
means  whereby  he  breathes  into  him  the  spirit  of  life, 
and  the  monster  moves  and  lives.  He  is  its  creator ; 
and  from  that  hour  the  thing  which  he  has  made 
haunts  him,  dogs  him,  will  not  let  him  rest,  is  a  walking 
.terror  he  cannot  evade,  a  hideous  presence  from  which 
he  cannot  flee.  So  he  who  raises  the  devil  of  impure 
delight  raises  a  devil  very  difficult  to  lay.     It  enters 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


in,  and  brings  with  it  seven  other  devils  worse  than 
itself.  It  quenches  conscience,  it  masters  the  will,  it 
destroys  too  often  intellectual  pleasures,  it  robs  the 
mind  of  peace,  and  visits  the  body  with  loathsome 
suffering,  till  of  a  man  made  in  God's  image  it  leaves 
something  worse  than  a  beast :  and  it  makes  the  body, 
which  should  be  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the 
mere  agent  and  minister  of  infamous  delights.  Purity  : 
it  is  embodied  in  an  Elijah  whose  thoughts  are  full  of 
God,  whose 

"  Strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten, 
Because  his  heart  is  pure." 

Sensuality :  it  is  embodied  in  a  Jezebel  who  has  given 
her  name  to  all  bad  women,  and  an  Ahab  who  forgets 
the  duties  of  kingship  in  her  guilty  fascinations.  Purity 
is  the  badge  of  every  good  and  great  man  ;  impurity 
is  the  foul  hoof-print,  the  leprous  taint,  of  every  Baal- 
worshipper.  Who  are  these  who  are  evermore  the 
saviours  of  their  age  ?  They  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
who  see  God  and  "  live  ever  in  the  great  Taskmaster's 
eye."  Who  are  these  whose  life  is  a  wasted  treasure ; 
whose  days  are  lit  with  lurid  light ;  whose  old  age,  if 
such  comes,  is  diseased  and  miserable ;  who  taint  the 
young ;  who  defile  the  pure  ;  who  die  with  their  own 
damnation  visibly  stamped  upon  their  bloated  bodies, 
corrupt,  obscene,  vile ;  whom  we  gladly  cover  up  with 
the  grave's  merciful  oblivion  ?  These  are  the  impure, 
and  they  shall  not  see  God,  but  the  wrath  of  God 
abideth  upon  them.  And  once  more  from  the  slopes 
of   Carmel   that   stern    voice  of   Elijah  pierces  to  the 


DECISION.  II 


present  age,  an  age  of  great  cities  cursed  by  impurity, 
an  age  when  in  literature,  in  art,  in  life,  impurity  is 
continually  flaunted  before  the  public  eyes :  ^'  How 
long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ?  " 

The  contrast,  again,  is  between  the  popularity  of 
custom  and  the  noble  isolation  of  the  remnant.  In  every 
age  there  is  a  remnant,  a  holy  seed,  who  defy  the 
custom  of  the  world,  and  cleave  to  God.  It  is  the 
remnant,  the  ten  righteous  men,  the  aristocracy  of 
virtue  who  save  a  nation  and  redeem  a  time;  and  th^y 
do  so  in  defiance  of  the  many,  who  cheerfully  go  to 
their  damnation  and  refuse  to  be  saved.  It  is  here, 
again,  this  subject  is  so  intensely  modern,  and  teaches 
eternal  truths.  The  priests  of  Baal  are  four  hundred  ; 
they  have  spread  their  toils  so  carefully  that  the 
people  do  not  want  to  be  redeemed ;  the  force  of  habit, 
the  dignity  of  royal  sanction,  the  spells  of  passion,  all 
are  with  them :  and  when  that  great  voice  cries,  ''  I, 
even  I  only,  remain  a  prophet  of  Jehovah,"  the  people 
answer  not  a  word.  Is  not  this  true  still  ?  Do  not 
all  the  people  bow  down  before  the  golden  image  ? 
Is  not  everybody  witched  by  sackbut,  and  psaltery,  and 
harp  ?  Will  not  everybody  in  the  office  laugh  at  you 
as  a  greenhorn  if  you  are  virtuous,  and  mock  you  as 
a  milksop  if  you  are  pious  ?  Does  not  all  the  world 
seem  to  go  one  way — the  way  of  the  tide,  the  broad 
way,  the  primrose  path  that  leads  to  everlasting  burn- 
ing ?  Is  that  so  ?  Well,  even  then  it  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  join  them.  You  are  a  man,  not  a  reed 
shaken  with  the  wind.     You  are  here  as  God's  servant ; 


12  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

and  it  is  to  Him,  and  not  to  them,  you  must  give 
account.  Ask  yourselves  where  would  the  world  have 
been  if  all  men  had  reasoned  thus.  Where  would 
liberty  have  been  if  no  patriot  had  bearded  the  tyranny 
of  despots,  or  truth  if  no  scholar  had  braved  the  ignorant 
fury  of  the  mob,  or  sainthood  if  no  martyr  had  dared  the 
lion  and  the  fire  ?  Where  would  the  English  Bible  have 
been  if  Wycliffe  had  not  defied  the  anathema  of  Rome, 
or  the  right  of  popular  government  if  Hampden  had  not 
died  upon  the  field,  or  the  right  of  human  Hberty  if 
Wilberforce  had  not  lived  down  the  enmity  of  capit- 
alists and  the  scornful  laughter  of  a  hundred  drawing 
rooms  ?  There  is  no  more  Divine  right  in  majorities 
than  in  kings  ;  though  a  thousand  do  evil,  it  is  no  reason 
why  you  should.  Dare  to  stand  alone,  to  think  your 
own  thoughts,  and  go  your  own  way,  and  have  your 
own  crnvictions  and  to  act  upon  them.  Dare  to  stand 
on  God's  bide,  though  no  one  else  will ;  front  the  priests 
of  Baal  in  open  battle,  and  dare  them  to  the  test,  and 
you  shall  not  be  confounded.  Look  around  again. 
Why  is  it  all  reform  is  so  slow  ?  Why  is  it  the  poor 
go  unfriended  and  the  rich  unrebuked  ?  Why  is  it 
men  daily  sacrifice  their  spiritual  honesty,  and  dare  not 
defy  conventionalism,  and  will  not  live  by  the  truth  ? 
Take  a  hundred  men  man  by  man,  and  each  will  tell 
you  privately  he  is  convinced  of  the  need  of  reform  ; 
take  them  in  the  mass  and  publicly,  and  why  is  it 
every  lip  is  dumb,  and  every  hand  unlifted  ?  Can  you 
tell  me  why  this  is  ?  Can  you  tell  me  why  it  is  that 
you,  who  acknowledge  my  arguments,   do  not  crown 


DECISION.  13 


them  by  consecrating  yourselves  to  the  Lord  ?     It  is 
because  you  are  afraid  of  the  paltry  verdicts  of  human 
opinion ;  you  are  cowards,  and  you  know  that  you  are 
cowards.     It  is  so  easy  to  go  with  the  tide,  even  though 
you  hear  the  rapids ;  it  is  so  hard  to  breast  it,  even 
though  it  means  life  eternal.     And  there  again  Elijah 
stands  forth  as  the  embodiment  of  manly  courage— a 
man  who  dares  to  be  true,  who  can  die  but  will  not 
lie,  who  is  willing  to  be  slain  by  the  priests  of  Baal 
rather  than   purchase  Hfe  by  apostasy  to  God.     And 
there  again  Ahab  and  the  people  stand  as  the  embodi- 
ment of  the  cowardice  of  custom,  the  poltroonery  of 
false   conventionalism ;    and   when    that    noble   voice 
rings  along  the  slope  of  Carmel,  though  a   hundred 
hearts  vibrate,  and,   sunk  as   they  are  in  vice,  know 
that  the   true   prophet    is  come   at   last,  there  is  the 
silence   of  cowardice  :  "  The  people   answered  not  a 
word." 

Here,  then,  are  the  three  great  characteristics  of 
Baal;  and  are  we  not  all  too  familiar  with  them? 
Who  has  not  found  the  difficulty  of  righteousness, 
and  has  not  been  made  conscious  of  that  fatal  vitiation 
of  character  which  manifests  itself  in  tolerance  of  evil  ? 
Who  has  not  caught  some  waft  of  that  intoxicating 
perfume  of  impurity  which  fills  the  world,  and  has  not 
felt  that  something  has  gone  out  of  his  hfe,  a  bloom, 
a  fragrance,  a  chastity  of  desire,  a  blessed  guileless- 
ncss,  and  somet:  ing  has  come  into  it  which  has  spread 
a  contaminating  darkness  through  the  soul  ?  Who  has 
not  felt  the  force  of  custom  and  of  numbers,   like  a 


14  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

secret  tide,  sweeping  him  away  in  spite  of  himself? 
And  what  is  the  remedy  ?  Do  what  Ehjah  did :  be 
true  to  conviction  and  true  to  God.  Elijah  presents 
precisely  the  type  of  religious  manliness  we  want  to- 
day :  intense  power  of  conviction  and  firm  grasp  upon 
reality.  We  think  in  masses ;  we  act  on  regulation 
patterns;  we  accept  the  axioms  and  platitudes  of  society : 
how  few  think  for  themselves,  or  act  upon  their  true 
convictions  !  How  often  under  stress  of  temptation 
we  pare  down  the  truth  to  suit  our  company  !  We  are 
not  entirely  false  ;  we  do  not  lie,  but  we  prevaricate ; 
we  rely  on  dexterity  and  adroitness  rather  than  in- 
tensity of  statement :  and  so  our  words  have  no  fire, 
no  thunder,  no  grip,  about  them.  The  secret  of  Elijah 
is  fearless  sincerity.  Conviction  breeds  conviction, 
and  the  man  who  is  only  half  convinced  himself  never 
convinces  other  people.  The  Church  itself  has  grown 
afraid  of  plain-speaking ;  it  is  only  parenthetically 
brave,  and  is  habitually  apologetic,  and  therefore  is 
heard  with  disguised  contempt,  and  dismissed  with 
easy  scorn.  The  only  way  to  regain  authority  is  to 
regain  sincerity ;  and  that  is  true  both  of  the  collective 
Church  and  of  the  individual.  We  want  a  more  virile 
type  of  piety — fearless,  sincere,  uncompromising.  We 
w^ant  not  pious  sentimentalists,  but  men.  We  want 
men  who  will  bring  into  politics  the  old  spirit  of  belief 
in  God  and  love  of  righteousness  which  Cromwell  had ; 
men  who  will  bring  into  literature  the  living  faith  wL  .ii 
shall  heal  the  Marah  waters  of  our  troubled  thought 
such  as  Bunyan  brought ;  men  who  shall  apply  to  com- 


DECISION.  15 


merce  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  who  shall  bring 
into  the  Church  the  inspired  audacity  and  Divine 
aggressiveness  of  the  first  Apostles.  It  is  with  you, 
the  young  men  of  to-day,  that  the  shaping  of  the  future 
lies.  You  will  be  the  statesmen,  the  magistrates,  the 
merchants,  the  leaders  of  thought,  in  that  coming  time 
whose  light  will  only  shine  upon  the  graves  of  those 
to  whom  we  look  to-day.  Let  the  dead  past  bury 
its  dead.  Let  the  reign  of  compromise,  with  all  its 
bitter  humiliations,  end  for  you  just  now;  and  to 
that  fearless  voice  which  speaks  from  Carmel  let  us 
reply,  "The  Lord,  He  is  the  God;  it  is  Jehovah 
whom  we  serve  and  whose  we  are ! " 

So,  then,  I  notice,  lastly,  that  a  vast  class  of  men, 
and  especially  young  men,  is  indicated  here ;  viz.,  the 
undecided.  They  halt  between  two  opinions  ;  they  are 
lame,  and  crippled,  and  impotent  for  want  of  one  sturdy 
act  of  will  which  would  change  their  life.  Remember 
that  power  of  will  is  a  matter  of  habit,  and  that  he 
who  tampers  with  his  will  at  last  destroys  it.  Can 
you  tell  me  who  are  the  most  hopeless  wrecks  that 
toss  on  the  broken  waters  of  society  ?  They  are  men 
without  power  of  will.  One  such  man  came  to  my 
house  only  the  other  day.  He  was  a  man  of  brilliant 
promise,  who  began  life  side  by  side  with  me.  When 
he  came  to  me,  he  was  a  tramp,  and  had  the  tramp's 
squalor  and  the  tramp's  Hmp.  He  had  slept  for  weeks 
in  low  lodging-houses.  It  was  useless  to  help  him ;  he 
had  destroyed  his  power  of  will.  His  nature  was  like 
a  rotten  wall  in  which  no  nail  would  hold.     I  could 


l6  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


weep  over  him,  I  could  keep  him  from  starvation,  but 
I  could  not  rouse  in  him  the  power  of  will  to  save 
himself.  There  are  thousands  such — brilliant  wrecks, 
of  whom  much  was  expected,  but  from  whom  nothing 
came,  of  whom  their  friends  said  twenty  years  ago, 
"  He  will  be  a  great  man,"  and  fifteen  years  ago,  "  He 
has  a  good  deal  in  him,"  and  ten  years  ago,  somewhat 
more  doubtfully,  "  He  may  succeed  yet,"  but  of  whom 
now  they  never  speak  at  all,  because  they  know  that 
he  in  whom  they  hoped  is  a  tragic  failure,  and  the 
failure  has  been  indecision.  For  God's  sake,  be  decided, 
even  though  it  be  in  sin,  for  there  is  more  hope  in  that, 
than  in  a  life  frittered  in  vain  compromise  between  God 
and  Baal,  in  futile  drifting  between  right  and  wrong. 
Every  good  emotion  stifled  is  a  good  emotion  seared ; 
every  true  impulse  defeated  makes  such  an  impulse 
more  difficult  of  repetition.  If  God  is  the  Lord,  serve 
Him,  if  Baal,  then  serve  him ;  and,  deplorable  as  such 
a  decision  may  be,  it  is  better  than  a  lifetime  of  shilly- 
shally. Yes,  and  it  has  more  ultimate  hope  in  it,  for 
the  more  energetic  a  servant  of  the  devil  a  m.an  is  the 
sooner  does  he  find  out  what  a  bad  master  he  has  got. 
But,  oh,  decide !  Do  not  drift  into  that  most  hopeless 
class  of  worshippers  who  are  touched  by  every  sermon, 
convinced  in  every  service,  thrilled  by  every  hymn,  but 
never  changed,  or  converted,  or  redeemed  by  any.  I 
appeal  to  young  natures,  the  force  of  will  unvitiated  in 
many,  and  only  partially  weakened  in  any ;  and  in  God's 
name  I  ask  you,  "How  long  halt  ye  between  two 
opinions  ?  " 


DECISION.  17 


I  know  I  have  your  verdict ;  your  conscience  is  m}'' 
judge.  Not  more  surely  if  now  the  last  dread  trumpet 
sounded,  and  out  of  the  chasm  of  the  rent  heavens  the 
great  white  throne  of  judgment  flashed  into  view, 
would  the  moral  issues  of  a  theme  like  this  be  settled 
than  they  are  settled  now.  You  know  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong.  You  know  where  the  balance  of 
final  victory  will  be;  and  you  may  well  dread  the 
eternal  comradeship  of  that  polluted  crowd  of  blinded 
eyes  and  wasted  brows  who  cursed  their  age  with 
Baal-worship,  and  have  gone  to  their  own  place.  It 
only  remains,  therefore,  for  me  to  press  the  question, 
How  long?  How  long?  For  as  these  words  reach 
you  memories  of  the  old  home  have  stirred  in  you  ; 
the  prayers  of  a  long-dead  mother  have  vibrated  on 
the  ear,  and  her  dying  voice  has  thrilled  you  ;  and  you 
have  thought  of  the  men  whom  you  have  known,  the 
lost  men,  all  whose  brilliant  promise  has  burned  down 
into  dead  ash,  and  whose  bright  young  lives  have  been 
blighted  in  an  early  grave.  The  way  of  transgressors 
is  hard.  How  long  halt  ye  between  two  opinions  ? 
How  long?  For  the  time  is  short.  Nearer  than  we 
know  stands  the  cloaked  shadow,  the  inexorable 
messenger;  and  the  year  will  soon  dawn  which  will 
only  shine  upon  our  graves. 

"Our  life  is  a  dream, 
Our  time  as  a  stream 
Glides  swiftly  away, 
And  the  fugitive  moment  refuses  to  stay.** 

How  long  haltest  thou  between  two  opinions  ?     How 

2 


1 8  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

long  ?  For,  behold,  prophets  pass  away  ;  and  the  voice 
which  God  has  specially  sent  to  thrill  and  call  you 
shall  have  performed  its  task,  and  no  other  be  vouch- 
safed ;  and  the  time  comes  when  there  will  be  no  open 
vision  in  the  land  for  you,  nor  answering  oracle,  and 
character  will  acquire  its  last  mould  of  awful  perma- 
nence :  "  He  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy  still ;  and  he 
that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy  still."  How  longhaltest 
thou  between  two  opinions?  How  long?  For  life 
and  death  hang  on  the  decision.  Like  a  gay  ship  the 
young  life  bounds  over  the  bright  waters,  and  the 
silver  voice  of  riot  fills  the  sunlight,  and  "all  goes 
merry  as  a  marriage  bell."  But  even  now  the  tempest 
lowers ;  the  sea  shivers  into  foam  as  the  wind 
strikes  it ;  and  the  grey  waves  run  in  thunder,  and 
break  no  more  in  ripples.  Infirm  of  purpose,  how 
long  haltest  thou  between  two  opinions  ?  Knowest 
thou  not  that  he  who  steers  no  course  steers  the 
wrong  course,  that  he  who  makes  no  decision  has 
made  the  wrong  decision  ?  Dost  thou  not  see,  far 
away,  yet  ever  nearer,  that  belt  of  white  foam 
spanned  by  the  thunder-cloud,  smitten  by  the  light- 
ning, that  last  harbour,  the  final  shore  of  doom  ? 
There  is  no  time  for  delay ;  is  Jesus  with  thee  in 
the  little  ship  ?  The  storm  comes  on  apace,  and 
death  is  near ;  is  He  who  stills  the  waters  with  thee 
now  ?  Now  is  the  time  ;  there  is  no  other.  Claim 
the  hour;  the  reversion  of  the  morrow  is  assured  to 
none  of  us.  I  warn  you,  I  appeal  to  you,  I  beseech 
you,  but  I  cannot  save  you.     You  must  choose ;  you 


DECISION.  19 


only  can.  Remember  the  words  of  a  great  writer 
recently  in  our  midst,  — 

*'  This  passing  moment  is  an  edifice 
Which  the  Omnipotent  cannot  rebuild  ; " 

and  now,  while  it  is  called  to-day,  choose  whom  you 
will  serve.  Who  this  day  will  consecrate  himself  unto 
the  Lord  ? 


II. 

A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES. 

'•  If  ;?ny   man   will   do   his   will,    he  shall   know  of  the  doctrine, 
whether  it  be  of  God." — John  vii.  17. 

I  HAVE  selected  this  text,  but  I  do  not  mean  to  stick 
to  it.  I  shall  use  it  later  on  as  an  illuminating 
principle  for  those  in  intellectual  difficulties.  Why 
I  have  been  led  to  choose  this  subject  is  briefly  this  :  I 
have  recently  received  a  remarkable  letter  from  a  young 
man  entirely  unknown  to  me,  in  which  he  details  his 
intellectual  difficulties.  As  his  identity  is  not  likely 
to  be  revealed  by  anything  I  may  say,  I  think  it  will 
be  no  breach  of  confidence  if  I  take  the  main  points 
of  his  letter  as  difficulties  common  to-day  among  many 
thinking  young  men,  and  say  what  I  can  about  them. 
Leaving  out  certain  portions  of  this  letter  which  I 
regard  as  sacred,  the  case  presented  is  this :  My 
unknown  correspondent  says  that  until  three  years 
ago  he  was  quite  orthodox,  but  that  since  that  time 
he  has  read  certain  works  which  have  utterly  under- 
mined his  faith.  He  names  Matthew  Arnold,  Renan, 
Huxley's  *'  Life  of  Hume,"  Spencer's  "  Sociology,"  and 
various  articles  on  Biblical  criticism,  and  books  on 
Buddhism.  He  adds  that  he  has  also  read  the  Bible, 
"The   Imitation   of   Christ,"    Wordsworth,   Tennyson, 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  21 


Shakespeare,  Kingsley,  and  Robertson.  He  finds  he 
does  not  believe  in  a  "  God  who  thinks  and  loves," 
in  Jesus  Christ  still  living  as  God,  or  in  the  super- 
natural. He  does  still  believe  in  a  vague  ^' First  Cause," 
the  Source  of  life  and  power,  and  that  Jesus  was  a 
sublime  Teacher,  who  lived  an  ideal  life,  taught  noble 
truths,  died  gloriously,  and  whose  memory  he  loves 
and  venerates.  Certain  dogmas — e.g.y  original  sin  and 
eternal  punishment — he  never  could  believe  in.  Then 
there  is  the  difficulty  of  Buddhism  ;  if  Christ  was  God 
incarnate,  why  not  Buddha,  and  may  not  another  man 
arise  who  shall  live  as  perfect  a  life  as  either  ?  And 
there  is  the  difficulty  of  the  pain  and  sorrow  of  the 
world,  which  seem  inconsistent  with  the  existence  of 
a  God  of  love.  Finally,  he  adds  pathetically  that  he 
is  not  in  despair,  duty  is  his  law  of  life,  and  if  there 
is  any  help  outside  ourselves  he  wants  to  find  it.  This 
letter  has  deeply  moved  me,  because  it  is  obviously  the 
sincere  utterance  of  an  honest  soul  in  difficulties ;  and 
because  they  are  typical  difficulties  with  young  men, 
I  will  do  what  I  can  to  help  you  to  their  solution. 

Doubts  and  Doubters. 

Now,  doubt  is  sometimes  the  crotchet  of  a  feeble 
mind,  sometimes  the  disease  of  a  developing  mind.  It 
may  be  the  evidence  of  sincerity  or  the  outcome  of 
inconsistency,  the  grim  Apollyon  with  whom  the  true 
soul  must  grapple  before  the  green  pastures  are  reached 
or  the  haunting  fiend  invoked  by  the  repudiation  of 
moral  obligations.     Many  men  reject  Christianity  be-. 


22  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

cause  they  have  already  rejected  Christian  morality ; 
and,  having  thrown  away  the  law  of  conduct,  they  find 
it  necessary  to  invent  a  theory  to  justify  their  revolt. 
Polygamy  existed  in  Mohammedanism  before  polygamy 
was  justified  by  Mohammed,  just  as  slavery  existed  in 
Christian  lands  before  men  ransacked  the  Bible  for 
texts  and  arguments  in  its  support.  In  other  words, 
it  is  common  among  men  first  to  live  as  though  there 
was  no  God,  and  then  to  persuade  themselves  there  is 
no  God.  The  philosophy  does  not  produce  the  life,  but 
the  life  produces  the  philosophy. 

But  there  is  another  class  of  doubters  to  whom  these 
strictures  do  not  apply,  and  my  correspondent  is  among 
them.  Like  the  young  ruler  who  came  to  Christ,  they 
seek  eternal  life,  and  seek  it  honestly;  but  they  find 
the  quest  beset  with  difficulties.  We  live  in  an  age 
when  the  very  foundations  of  religion  have  been  laid 
bare,  and  the  reason  of  man  has  claimed  supreme 
domination  and  right  of  decision  in  religious  as  in  all 
other  spheres.  A  great  world  of  new  facts,  of  which 
our  fathers  never  dreamed,  lies  open  to  us ;  and  new 
currents  of  thought  and  tendency  stream  round  us, 
and  touch  the  mind  on  every  side.  Science  has  literally 
annexed  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth ;  Biblical  criti- 
cism has  quarried  deep  into  the  debris  of  buried 
centuries,  and  has  brought  up  from  the  depths  facts 
of  solemn  and  far-reaching  importance  ;  the  study  of 
other  religions  has  revealed  to  us  elements  of  noble- 
ness in  systems  of  thought  which  our  fathers  scarcel}? 
regarded  as  worthy  of  more  than    passing   contempt, 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  23 

and  certainly  as  unworthy  of  serious  refutation  ;  and 
on  all  sides  there  heaves  a  great  sea  of  intellectual 
ferment  and  unrest.  Even  poetry  and  fiction  have 
caught  the  vibration  of  the  new  movement ;  and  the 
poet  no  longer  sings,  but  preaches ;  and  the  novelist  no 
longer  paints  idyllic  life,  but  life  at  fever-heat,  life  in 
intellectual  ferment,  life  as  spiritual  battle  for  the 
truth.  And  so  far  I  think  the  signs  of  the  times  are 
with  us.  Anything,  even  the  most  hostile  and  search- 
ing criticism,  is  better  than  indifference.  When  sincere 
men  doubt,  it  is  a  sign  that  they  have  begun  to  think, 
and  that  they  feel  the  immense  solemnity  and  import- 
ance of  religion.  It  is  not,  then,  to  the  flippant  and 
ignorant  questioner  of  sacred  things  I  speak,  but  to  the 
sincere  doubter.  It  is  to  the  youth  who  has  come  to  a 
point  of  crisis  in  his  career  when  he  feels  the  kingdom 
of  thought  shaken,  and  the  kingdom  of  truth  which 
remains  is  not  yet  set  up.  I  speak  as  one  who  has 
himself  sat  in  the  shadow  of  death,  and  journeyed 
through  the  impenetrable  gloom.  I,  too,  have  1  ad  to 
fight  my  way  out  of  the  valley  of  Apollyon,  as  many  a 
better  man  has  had  to  do  before  me  ;  and  I  have  found 

"A  power  was  with  me  in  the  night 
Which  made  the  darkness  and  the  light, 
And  dwells  not  in  the  light  alone." 

And  because  I  know  how  bitter  the  struggle  is,  and 
know  also  that  there  is  a  way  out  of  it  to  the  solid 
ground  and  heavenly  sunlight,  I  speak  to  those  in 
whose  ears  the  spirit  that  denies  is  whispering  even 
while   the  choral  singing   of  the  sanctuary  rises  from 


24  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


their  lips,  and  who  question  the  very  existence  of  Christ 
even  while  the  shadow  of  Christ,  like  a  luminous  and 
spiritual  presence,  falls  across  the  tired  heart  unnoticed. 

Primal  Difficulties. 

First,  then,  there  are  certain  primal  difficulties  of 
religion  felt  by  my  correspondent.  He  finds  it  hard  to 
believe  in  a  God  who  "  thinks  and  loves,"  in  a  living 
Christ,  and  in  the  supernatural ;  but  he  cannot  help 
believing  in  a  First  Cause,  and  in  Christ  as  a  sublime 
Teacher  whose  memory  he  loves  and  venerates.  Let  us 
look  at  these  points. 

In  a  First  Cause  all  nations  have  believed ;  a  nation 
of  atheists  has  never  yet  existed.  It  is  the  fool  who 
says  in  his  heart,  "  There  is  no  God ; "  and  nobody  but 
the  fool  says  it.  It  is  no  mere  poetic  sentiment  which 
perceives  upon  the  everlasting  hills  the  burning  wheel- 
tracks  of  the  chariots  of  God,  or  which  says  of  the 
serene  pomp  and  splendour  of  the  midnight  firmament, 
'*  The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firma- 
ment showeth  His  handiwork."  It  is  the  natural  cry  of 
man  when  he  finds  something  mightier  than  himself, 
an  inscrutable  wisdom  and  majesty  in  the  ordering  of 
the  world  which  he  inhabits.  One  of  the  greatest  of 
German  philosophers  has  spoken  of  two  great  facts 
which  confront  man  everywhere  :  ''  the  starry  heavens 
above,  the  moral  law  within."  Nor  is  it  difficult  to  mark 
the  connection  between  these  two  facts.  Man  is  con- 
scious of  law  above  him  and  law  within  him  ;  and  he 
thinks  the  power  which  shaped  a  star  and  works  within 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  25 


the  soul  is  one.  The  existence  of  a  First  Cause  is 
therefore  the  creed  of  reason  ;  and  reason  sees  its  proof 
in  the  heaving  ocean  and  movements  of  the  stars,  in  the 
colouring  of  the  leaf  and  ripening  of  the  fruit,  in  all  that 
vast  process  of  law  which,  with  a  thousand  minute  or  ma- 
jestic adjustments,  holds  the  universe  in  place  and  order. 
But  we  want  something  more  than  the  God  of  the 
reason  ;  we  want  the  God  of  the  heart,  the  God  who 
"  thinks  and  loves."  Mark,  then,  where  the  argument 
stands.  Thought  and  love  are  human  words  for  human 
functions ;  if,  then,  they  are  not  the  creation  of  God, 
whence  are  they?  See  what  they  have  wrought  m. 
human  life.  Civilisation  is  nothing  but  embodied 
thought ;  the  human  family  is  nothing  but  embodied 
love.  When  I  go  down  the  Clyde  to  see  some  vast 
vessel  launched,  it  is  no  mere  mass  of  inert  steel  and 
timber  I  look  upon ;  it  is  a  visible  thought  which  slides 
down  the  cradle  at  a  sign,  and  floats  off  into  the  deep 
water  like  a  thing  of  life.  When  I  cross  the  Border,  it 
is  a  thought  that  carries  me,  a  winged  and  fiery  thought, 
whose  name  is  swiftness  and  whose  glory  is  its  strength. 
This  church  is  thought  translated  into  stone ;  the  pic- 
ture is  thought  translated  into  colour  ;  music  is  thought 
translated  into  harmony;  speech  is  thought  translated 
into  sound;  and  books  are  thought  translated  into 
symbols.  Are  not  the  heavens  also  thought  translated 
into  splendour,  and  is  not  the  earth  thought  translated 
into  life  and  matter  ?  And  of  all  this  wealth  of  love 
which  we  find  in  human  life,  is  not  the  same  deduction 
just  ?     From   whom  has  come  the  impulse   of  love  ? 


26  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

Who  has  made  the  heart  which  vibrates  with  ecstasy 
or  thrills  with  agony  in  the  joy  or  loss  of  another  ?  It 
is  love  which  is  the  golden  barrier  between  man  and 
the  beast.  The  beast  has  passion  and  instinct ;  but 
man  has  the  power  of  intelligent  choice  and  spiritual 
devotion.  How,  then,  can  God  be  less  than  we  ?  How 
can  we  conceive  the  Maker  of  the  world  creating  facul- 
ties in  man  which  He  Himself  does  not  possess  ?  How 
can  the  picture  be  created  without  the  sense  of  beauty 
in  the  artist,  or  the  church  without  the  sense  of  sym- 
metry in  the  architect  ?  No,  we  are  not  greater  than 
God,  but  we  are  the  shadows  of  God  ;  and  what  we 
have  in  part,  that  He  has  in  full.  Our  love  is  but  the 
broken  hint  of  His,  our  thought  but  the  feeble  echo  of 
His  wisdom,  our  noblest  hope  that  hereafter  we  may 
know  even  as  we  are  known  ;  and  so  close  and  vital  is 
this  connection  between  man  and  God  that  the  writer 
of  Genesis  says  man  was  made  in  God's  likeness,  and 
Jesus  urges  us  to  be  perfect,  even  as  our  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect.  If  there  is  a  God  at  all,  it  is  clear, 
then,  that  God  must  "  think  and  love." 

Who  was  Jesus  Christ? 

But  a  further  difficulty  named  is  belief  in  the  living 
Christ,  Jesus  Christ — who  was  He  ?  That  is  the  great 
question  of  the  ages.  In  His  own  day  the  most  brilli- 
ant scholars  of  the  time  asked,  as  in  this  very  chapter, 
"  How  knoweth  this  man  letters,  having  never  learned  ?" 
And  the  most  acute  observers  asked  in  something  more 
than  mere  astonishment,  "Whence  hath  this  man  these 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  27 

things  ? "  The  reply  of  Jesus  was  simple  and  con- 
sistent. He  said  He  was  the  Son  of  God.  He  said, 
"My  doctrine  is  not  Mine,  but  His  that  sent  Me."  He 
did  not  need  human  learning,  because  He  had  drunk  at 
the  fountain-head  of  wisdom.  He  knew  all  things,  not 
by  the  laborious  processes  of  acquisition  and  observa- 
tion, but  by  Godlike  intuition.  Now,  I  will  presently 
refer  to  the  difficulty  of  Buddhism  stated  by  my  corre- 
spondent ;  but  let  me  say  now^  that  no  human  lips  since 
the  world  began  ever  tittered  such  a  claim  as  this. 
Buddha  repeatedly  declared  he  was  only  a  man ;  he 
refused  Divine  honours,  and  said  that  what  he  was 
every  man  might  become.  Mohammed  never  swerved 
from  his  honest  declaration  that  there  was  one  God, 
and  he  was  but  His  prophet.  But  Jesus  never  ranked 
Himself  even  with  the  greatest  of  prophets  and  teachers. 
He  claimed  to  supersede  them.  He  entered  into  the 
firmament  of  human  thought  as  the  sun  enters  when 
at  the  breath  of  dawn  all  the  stars  fade  away,  and  are 
visible  no  more.  He  had  about  Him  none  of  the  con- 
ciliations and  compromises  of  the  mere  human  reformer; 
He  spoke  with  authority,  and  not  as  the  scribes.  He 
held  out  to  His  followers  superb  promises  which  mere 
genius  could  hardly  have  conceived,  and  which  only 
omnipotence  could  fulfil.  In  the  last  hours  of  His  life 
He  solemnly  asserted  He  was  the  Son  of  God ;  He 
described  Himself  as  a  King,  and  He  died  as  a  King 
might  die.  What  every  man  has,  therefore,  to  face 
about  Jesus  is  this  question  :  Was  He  what  He  said 
He  was,  or  was  He  a  fanatical  impostor  ?     His  claim  is 


28  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

SO  great  that  you  must  concede  all  or  nothing.  I  will 
not  press  the  question  whether  an  impostor  could  have 
uttered  the  sublime  ethics  of  Jesus  or  have  preached 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  but  I  simply  say  every  man 
has  to  face  this  plain  question  :  Was  Jesus  God,  or  was 
He  an  impostor?  It  is  useless  to  say  we  love  and 
venerate  His  memory  if  He  was  an  impostor,  because 
we  can  do  nothing  of  the  kind.  If  Jesus  was  not  what 
He  said  He  was,  His  life  was  not  ideal,  but  infamous ; 
and  He  merited  every  stroke  of  the  scourge  and  all  the 
anguish  of  the  Cross  for  having  deluded  mankind  with 
vain  hopes  based  upon  a  most  blasphemous  assumption. 
Let  us  be  honest  in  this  matter.  Let  us  be  either  Jews 
or  Christians.  But  for  that  species  of  reverence  which 
clings  to  the  ethics  of  Jesus  after  denying  the  facts  on 
which  the  ethics  are  based  there  can  be  neither  stand- 
ing room  nor  respect.  *^  Whence,  then,  has  this  man 
these  things  ?  " 

The  Heart  of  the  World  is  with  Christ. 

But  if  we  grant  that  Jesus  was  what  He  said  He  was, 
then  all  difficulty  about  belief  in  the  living  Christ  at 
work  among  us  to-day  is  gone.  And  what  evidence 
have  we  of  Christ  among  us  to-day  ?  We  have  the 
perpetual  evidence  of  lives^  not  merely  reformed,  but 
transfigured  and  regenerated  by  the  power  of  Christ.  I 
point  you  the  great  phenomenon  of  human  conversion. 
Approach  it  honestly  and  examine  it  for  yourselves. 
Here  are  the  facts.  Christ  is  reported  to  have  said  just 
before  He  disappeared  from  this  world,  "  All  power  is 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  29 

given  unto  Me,  in  heaven  and  in  earth."  He  said  that 
after  a  given  period  of  waiting  a  new,  nameless,  extra- 
ordinary spirit  of  power  would  change  and  animate  His 
disciples,  and  would  spread  throughout  the  world.  In 
the  case  of  the  Apostles  it  is  clear  that  some  such 
extraordinary  change  did  occur.  The  enemies  of  Jesus 
were  so  confounded  by  the  transformation  effected  in 
Peter  and  John  that,  for  want  of  a  fuller  explanation, 
they  said  they  "  had  been  with  Jesus."  Paul  gives  a 
circumstantial  account  of  a  miraculous  change  which 
passed  over  him  ;  and  we  know  that  his  Hfe  was  split 
into  two  parts,  as  though  an  earthquake  had  torn  it 
asunder :  and  the  parts  differed  as  light  and  darkness 
differ.  Through  all  the  early  centuries  similar  records 
abound.  In  the  sixteenth  century  Luther  tells  the  same 
story,  in  the  seventeenth  Bunyan,  in  the  eighteenth 
Wesley,  in  the  nineteenth  an  innumerable  multitude. 
The  phenomenon  is  occurring  to-day.  It  is  variously 
described,  but  essentially  the  accounts  agree;  it  is  as 
though  a  new  life  streamed  into  a  dead  heart,  and  a 
transfiguring  change  passed  over  the  entire  character. 
The  drunkard  then  realises  that  he  has  a  power  which 
snaps  the  bonds  of  habit,  and  the  profligate  feels  within 
him  an  impulse  of  purity  which  effectually  lifts  him  out 
of  the  rottenness  in  which  he  lay  content.  If  you  want 
evidence,  every  minister  in  Great  Britain  can  say,  as 
Wren's  monument  says  in  St.  Paul's,  ''Circumspice  ;" 
and  at  a  wave  of  the  hand  scores  of  thousands  will  spring 
up  and  declare  that  Christ  has  saved  them.  And  that 
is  conversion.     That  is  what  is  meant  by  Christ  living 


30  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

to-day.  Other  men  charm  me,  but  this  Man  changes 
me ;  other  men  breathe  into  my  brain  the  message  of 
their  minds,  this  Man  breathes  into  my  soul  the  essence 
of  Himself.  He  passes  like  a  live  flame  through  my 
nature,  and  leaves  me  glowing  with  spiritual  vitaUty, 
wonderful  and  glorious.  No  other  man  wields  this 
spell ;  none  has  ever  done  so.  I  invite  you,  therefore, 
to  turn  from  the  contentions  of  mere  destructive  criti- 
cism, the  dreams  of  philosophic  doubt,  the  wonders  of 
natural  science,  and  face  this  extraordinary  phenomenon 
of  human  conversion.  Surely  it  should  be  as  inter- 
esting as,  and  is  far  more  important  than,  the  age  of  a 
Greek  parchment  or  the  dissection  of  a  beetle's  wing. 
It  is  a  Divine  wonder  ever  new,  and  ever  renewing 
itself;  and  the  only  interpretation  I  can  find  for  it  is 
that  Jesus  Christ  spoke  the  truth  when  He  said,  **  Lo, 
I  am  with  you  alway,  to  the  end  of  the  world,"  for, 
behold,  "  He  is  alive  for  evermore." 

The  Difficulty  of  the  Supernatural. 

As  to  the  difficulty  of  the  supernatural^  that  also  dis- 
appears when  we  believe  in  a  living  God  and  a  living 
Christ.  A  live  God  can  work  wonders ;  it  is  a  dead 
mechanism  which  is  always  uniform.  Life  means 
freedom  of  action ;  life  means  will  and  power ;  and 
power  and  will  do  not  always  obey  conditions,  but 
create  them.  If  I  am  not  an  animal,  but  a  spirit;  if 
this  world  is  not  my  cradle  and  my  grave ;  if  round 
me  lie  unmeasured  voids  of  mystery,  worlds  beyond 
worlds  of  whose  laws  I  know  little  or  nothing ;  then 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  31 

it  is  not  difficult  for  me  to. believe  in  the  supernatural. 
Not  to  believe  in  it  is  to  apply  my  yard  measure  to 
the  infinite,  and  to  make  my  narrow  intelligence  the 
sole  standard  by  which  God  is  to  be  judged  and  the 
universe  adjusted.  And  who  am  I  to  say  that  God 
never  does  the  unusual — I,  who  think,  but  cannot 
say  what  thought  is ;  who  live,  but  cannot  find  out 
what  life  is ;  who  feel  and  know  I  have  a  soul,  yet 
have  never  seen  it,  nor  can  describe  what  it  is,  or  how 
it  came  to  be  ?  To  deny  the  supernatural  is  the  last 
imbecility  of  human  ignorance  and  arrogance.  And 
who,  after  all,  are  these  who  so  calmly  write  that 
**  miracles  do  not  occur,  and  God  cannot  think  or 
love  "  ?  They  are  but  a  small  and  insignificant  band 
ranged  against  the  giants  of  the  world's  past  who 
believed  in  God.  The  very  names  quoted  by  my 
correspondent  tell  their  own  tale,  for  what  sane  man 
would  barter  Shakespeare  for  Renan,  or  Wordsworth 
for  Arnold,  or  Kingsley  and  Robertson  for  the  innumer- 
able smart  writers  of  Biblical  criticism  who  afflict  us 
in  the  magazines  of  to-day  ?  And  far  as  we  have 
gone  in  science,  Kepler  and  Newton  are  not  j^et  out- 
shone ;  and  he  would  be  a  bold  man  who  would  venture 
to  throne  either  Spencer  or  Huxley  beside  Galileo  and 
Milton.  No,  sirs,  depend  upon  it,  the  intellect  as  well 
as  the  heart  of  the  world  is  with  Jesus  Christ,  nor 
is  it  possible  for  me  to  believe  that  eighteen  centuries, 
crowned  with  the  most  illustrious  names  in  history,  have 
all  been  wrong,  that  at  last  of  living  men  Professor 
Huxley  alone  should  be  right. 


32  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

Faith  and  Dogma. 
I  now  come  to  certain  special  difficulties  suggested  by 
my  correspondent.  He  says  he  never  could  believe  in 
the  dogmas  of  original  sin  or  eternal  punishment.  I 
have  but  one  observation  to  make  here ;  viz.,  that  no 
man  is  bound  to  believe  either  in  order  to  be  converted 
and  find  the  Hving  God.  Christ's  question  to  all  who 
sought  His  help  was,  "  Believest  thou  that  I  am  able 
to  do  this  ?"  He  used  no  other  catechism.  All  sorts 
of  people  came  to  Him  :  Roman  soldiers,  Jewish  beggars, 
Greek  exiles  ;  and  each  had  different  theological  ideas. 
Christ  said  nothing  about  them ;  He  simply  asked  if 
they  had  faith  in  Him.  Even  when  a  man  honestly 
replied  that  he  had  very  httle  faith,  and  could  only  say, 
**  I  believe ;  help  Thou  my  unbelief,"  Christ  did  not 
hesitate  to  help  him.  And  it  is  so  still.  If  we  post- 
pone coming  to  Christ  till  we  have  assured  ourselves 
of  every  dogma  of  Christianity  wx  may  wait  for  ever. 
The  very  fact  that  all  the  Churches  disagree  on  dogma 
is  suflicient  to  teach  us  that  there  is  something  of 
infinitely  higher  importance  on  which  they  agree,  and 
that  is  the  living  Christ.  The  child  does  not  need  to 
understand  all  about  the  law  of  heredity  before  he  can 
know  his  father  loves  him,  nor  need  we  gain  any  theo- 
logical learning  to  prepare  us  for  the  healing  and  love 
of  Christ.  The  fact  is,  men  rake  amid  the  dust  of 
dogma  when  they  should  be  coming  to  the  Cross ;  and 
while  they  fight  over  doctrines  Jesus  passes  by,  and 
their  "eyes  are  holden,"  that  they  cannot  see  Him. 
Let  us  take  the  alphabet  first ;  we  can  leave  the  schol^rr 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  33 

ship  till  afterward.     Christianity  is  neither  this  dogma 
nor  that ;  Christianity  is  Jesus  Christ. 

The  Buddhist  Spectre. 

And  then  as  to  this  gigantic  brocken-spedre  of 
Buddhism^  which  casts  its  chilling  shadow  over  many 
an  inquiring  mind.  What  are  we  to  say  to  that  ?  Was 
Christ  better  than  Buddha?  Is  Christianity  better 
than  Buddhism  ?  asks  my  correspondent.  We  know 
whence  these  ideas  come.  During  the  last  few  years 
Buddhism  has  become  a  study,  and  its  noblest  elements 
have  been  again  and  again  put  before  English  readers. 
The  story  of  Buddha's  great  renunciation  has  been 
told  with  matchless  skill  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold  in  *'  The 
Light  of  Asia;"  the  psalms  of  Buddha  have  been 
translated  into  faultless  cadence  by  Max  Muller,  and 
other  Oriental  scholars.  And  next  to  the  story  of 
Jesus  tlxre  is  none  nobler,  and  next  to  the  Psalms  of 
David  there  are  none  more  loftily  devout.  Jesus  said 
of  John,  he  was  '*a  burning  and  a  shining  light;"  and 
I  find  no  difficulty  in  saying  as  much  of  Buddha. 
The  very  spirit  of  Jesus  breathes  in  such  words  as 
these  :  "  Never  will  I  seek  or  receive  private  salvation ; 
never  will  I  enter  into  final  peace  alone,  but  for  ever 
and  everywhere  will  I  live  and  strive  for  the  universal 
redemption  of  every  creature."  Ihese  are  the  words 
of  Buddha,  and  self-sacrifice  as  noble  as  that  of  the 
Galilean  inspired  the  Hfe  of  Gautama.  The  'Might  that 
lighteth  every  man  that  com.eth  into  the  world"  shone 
in  him ;  and  we  can  venerate  and  love  him  if  we  wi:l, 

3 


34  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

but  not  with  that  species  of  faith  which  daily  piles 
"  forests  of  flowers  on  his  stainless  shrines,"  and  daily 
moves  '*  countless  millions  of  lips  to  repeat  the  formula, 
*  I  take  refuge  in  Buddha.' "  And  why  ?  Because  we 
have  known  a  greater,  even  Him  who  is  the  Light  of 
the  world.  Buddhism  preaches  pessimism  and  extinc- 
tion ;  Jesus  brought  life  and  immortahty  to  light  by 
the  Gospel.  Buddha  claims  no  deity ;  he  claims  only 
to  be  an  erring  man,  who  tried,  by  the  practice  of  noble 
virtues,  to  free  himself  from  the  tyranny  of  desire,  and 
in  return  to  gain,  not  the  boon  of  Hfe,  but  of  death, 
to  be  extinguished  and  annihilated,  as  the  bubble  is 
extinguished  in  the  ocean.  The  one  point  in  which 
Buddhism  touches  Christianity  is  in  its  teaching  of 
austere  purity  and  self-sacrificing  love.  Buddha  him- 
self regarded  his  religion  as  elementary;  he  said  it 
might  last  five  thousand  years,  and  then  a  new  Buddha 
would  appear.  The  Nirvana,  or  heaven,  of  Buddhism  is 
simply  painless  annihilation,  the  com.plete  destruction  of 
identity  and  personality.  Its  promise  is.  Whoso  follow- 
eth  me  shall  die  for  evermore.  The  promise  of  Christ  is, 
"  Whoso  believeth  in  Me  shall  never  die."  In  Buddhism, 
strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  God ;  in  Christianity  there 
is  the  ever-present  sense  of  ^*  our  Father  who  art  in 
heaven."  Buddhism  is  one  great  truth,  the  truth  of  self- 
sacrifice,  caught  up  and  illuminated  by  a  great  example; 
it  is  the  star  hung  upon  the  threshold  of  the  day,  and 
Christianity  is  that  day  in  which  it  is  swallowed  up. 
Christ  fulfils  its  hope ;  He  completes  the  circle  of  which 
it  is  a  segment.    Buddhism,  Mohammedanism,  and  Chris- 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  35 

tianity  are  the  three  great  historical  religions ;  and,  says 
Max  Miiller,  Christianity  absorbs  the  best  elements  of 
both,  and  adds  the  Diviner  elements  which  they  lack.  As 
for  me,  so  far  from  Buddhism  being  a  difficulty,  I  rejoice 
in  it  as  a  glorious  evidence  that  God  has  never  for- 
gotten His  creatures,  but  in  every  age  has  nourished 
the  human  heart  with  those  instincts  and  impulses  of 
worship  out  of  which  all  religion  and  virtue  spring. 

A  little  more  patience,  a  little  more  insight,  a  little 
more  breadth  of  view,  is  what  is  needed  for  the  dissipa- 
tion of  difficulties  like  these ;  and  the  same  remark 
applies  to  the  philosophical  difficulties  suggested  by 
my  correspondent  in  regard  to  the  existence  of  pain 
and  suffering.  Pain  is  the  sentinel  of  life,  the  stern 
guardian  angel  who  shields  us  from  destruction.  If 
pain  did  not  teach  us  that  fire  burned,  we  should  be 
devoured  by  the  cruel  splendour;  if  the  gash  of  the 
knife  caused  no  agony,  there  would  be  nothing  to 
remind  us  of  our  peril  or  save  us  from  it.  Every  law 
of  nature  is  founded  on  some  unalterable  necessity, 
and  that  which  bears  most  hardly  upon  the  individual 
is  often  the  most  beneficial  for  the  race.  But,  while 
natural  law  cares  for  the  race,  spiritual  lavN^  atones  for 
its  defect  by  caring  for  the  individual,  and  reminds  us 
that  the  very  hairs  of  our  head  are  all  numbered. 
Once  let  us  grasp  the  great  truth  of  a  living  God,  of 
God  who  is  our  Father,  and  in  the  light  of  that  truth 
ail  the  others  become  clear ;  the  impenetrable  darkness 
of  the  world  lifts,  and  leaves  us  face  to  face  with  One 
who  loves,  who  pities,  who  saves. 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


"  I  say  to  thee,  do  thou  repeat 

To  the  first  man  thou  mayest  meet 

In  lane,  highway,  or  open  street, 
**That  he  and  we  and  all  men  move 

Under  a  canopy  of  love. 

As  broad  as  the  blue  sky  above  ; 
**  That  weary  deserts  we  may  tread, 

Dreary  perplexities  may  thread, 

Through  dark  ways  underground  be  led  J 
"Yet,  if  we  will  our  Guide  obey 

The  dreariest  path,  the  darkest  way, 

Shall  issue  out  in  heavenly  day." 

The  Key  of  Knowledge. 

One  last  question  remains  then :  "  How  are  we  to 
find  this  knowledge?"  This  text  is  the  answer:  "If 
any  man  willeth  to  do  the  will  of  the  Father,  he  shall 
know  of  the  doctrine."  Man's  mode  of  religion  is  to 
begin  with  the  head ;  Christ's  is  to  begin  with  the  will 
and  the  heart.  To  the  question,  "What  is  truth?* 
man's  reply  is  enlightenment ;  Christ's  is  surrender. 
Man  says,  "  Prove  me  these  things  by  a  logic  so  keen 
that  I  cannot  resist,  and  I  submit ; "  Christ  ignores  the 
demand  of  the  intellect,  and  addresses  Himself  to  the 
spirit.  And  Christ  is  right,  because  mere  enlightenment 
does  not  change  the  heart  or  transform  the  life.  The 
drunkard  and  the  profligate  are  well  enough  enlightened 
as  to  their  folly,  but  the  knowledge  of  the  effects  of 
alcohol  on  the  body  does  not  deter  the  drunkard  from 
his  vice,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  penalties  of  impurity 
does  not  convince  the  profligate  of  his  fatal  madness. 
The  way  of  reform  is  not  in  mastering  the  theory  of 
right,  but  in  practising  just  as  much  of  the  right  as 


A    YOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  37 

we  know.  The  doubter  will  never  gain  the  light  by 
analysing  the  qualities  of  darkness,  but  by  resolutely 
following  just  such  faint  and  feeble  ghmpses  of  the  light 
as  he  may  have.  There  are  some  things  every  man 
knows  to  be  right  and  good ;  let  him  cleave  to  these, 
and  the  horizon  will  broaden  to  him.  Into  this 
ApoUyon  valley  of  doubt  the  truest  and  bravest  spirits 
may  come  ;  but  it  is  never  so  dark  but  that  the  will  of 
the  Father  can  be  discerned,  like  a  Divinely  luminous 
path,  threading  the  gloom  and  leading  upward.  Says 
Robertson  of  this  very  experience  in  his  own  life, 
"  But  in  all  that  struggle  I  am  thankful  to  say  the 
bewilderment  never  told  upon  my  conduct."  Mark 
that,  young  man.  "  In  the  thickest  darkness  I  tried  to 
keep  my  eye  on  nobleness  and  goodness,  even  when 
I  suspected  they  were  only  will-o'-the-wisps."  The 
question  is.  Are  you  ready  to  be  taught?  Will  you 
renounce  your  own  will  and  do  the  will  of  the  Father 
as  far  as  you  know  it  ?  Will  you  act  up  to  the  frag- 
ment of  conviction  that  is  still  yours,  and  if  you  have  not 
the  ten  talents,  be  faithful  to  the  solitary  one  ?  The 
boy  at  school  learns  grammar  without  knowing  its  uses, 
and  works  out  the  tedious  problems  of  Euclid  without 
discerning  their  application.  It  is  not  till  long  after- 
wards the  use  is  seen  ;  and  in  a  sudden  flush  of  triumph 
the  youth  realises  that  a  language  is  unlocked  to  him, 
and  a  literature  is  his.  So  it  is  for  you  to  learn  what 
God  wants  to  teach  you  now.  Be  true  to  that.  Will 
with  all  your  strength  to  do  the  will  of  God.  If  He  hum- 
bles your  intellect,  submit ;  and  then  when  you  inquire 


38  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

of  the  doctrine  your  obedience  will  be  repaid,  and  the 
wisdom  of  God  will  make  you  wise  unto  salvation. 

The  Province  of  the  Heart. 
And  remember,  finally,  two  things.  First,  we  are  not 
intellect  only ;  the  heart  has  to  be  reckoned  with.  "  The 
heart  has  reasons  which  the  reason  does  not  know  of," 
says  Pascal.  Faith  in  unseen  things  and  things  un- 
proven  to  the  perception  is  a  daily  necessity ;  we  do 
not  feel  the  earth  move,  but  we  believe  it :  we  never  saw 
the  other  side  of  the  world,  but  we  send  our  messages 
to  its  farthest  boundary  without  misgiving.  And  every 
day,  imprisoned  as  we  are  in  a  world  of  law,  we  triumph 
over  law,  just  as  every  tree  and  flower  defeats  the  law 
of  gravitation  when  it  forces  its  way  upward  to  the 
light  and  seeks  a  wider  world. 

"If  e'er  when  faith  had  fallen  asleep 
I  heard  a  voice,  'Believe  no  more,* 
And  heard  an  ever-breaking  shore 
That  tumbled  in  the  godless  deep, 

A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  part. 
And,  like  a  man  in  wrath,  the  heart 

Stood  up,  and  answered,  'J  have  felt."* 

Yes,  we  have  felt.  When  every  fact  has  been  against  us, 
a  Divine  intuition  in  the  heart  has  buoyed  us  up  and 
given  us  hope.  Beside  the  beds  of  the  dying  all  the 
facts  have  seemed  against  us ;  but  we  have  felt  that  all 
the  virtue  and  the  patience  of  that  closing  life  could  not 
be  lost,  but  must  survive  somewhere,  if  only  in  obedi- 
ence in  that  law  of  economy  which  permits  no  waste  in 
nature.     Beside  the  graves  of  great  men  we  have  felt 


A    tOUNG  MAN'S  DIFFICULTIES.  39 

that  all  those  powers,  sharpened  to  the  finest  uses,  could 
not  be  utterly  destroyed ;  and  it  has  been  impossible  for 
us  to  think  of  the  putrefaction  of  the  grave :  we  have 
perceived  the  entrance  on  immortality.  And  when  the 
great  earth  has  been  dumb  to  our  inquiry  and  the  stars 
deaf  to  our  prayer,  we  have  still  told  ourselves  our  hopes 
should  not  be  disinherited,  nor  our  prayer  be  mocked. 
Do  you  remember  that  word  of  Paul's,  "  With  the  heart 
a  man  helieveth  unto  righteousness^^ ?  Oh,  well  do  I  re- 
member how  like  a  flash  of  light  that  verse  illumined  my 
soul  one  day  when  all  was  at  its  darkest  for  me.  And 
then  I  saw  what  it  all  meant :  that  God  did  not  ask  me 
to  believe  with  my  intellect  at  all,  but  to  trust  Him  with 
my  heart.  From  that  hour  the  world  has  brightened  in 
me,  for  I  know  now  that  I  have  found  God.  Often  and 
often  now  I  cannot  believe  with  the  intellect,  but  I 
can  with  the  heart.  And  so  may  you.  Come,  doubts 
and  all,  to  the  blessed  Lord,  and  let  your  hearts  go  out 
to  Him,  and  He  shall  give  you  rest  unto  your  soul. 

The  Cross  of  Mystery. 

And  the  other  thing  I  would  ask  you  to  remember 
is  that  Christ  does  not  profess  to  have  told  us  every- 
thing, or  cleared  up  every  human  mystery.  From 
vast  tracts  of  thought  He  has  not  lifted  the  curtain ;  they 
lie  unilluminated,  or  revealed  only  by  some  vivid  flash 
of  light  which  makes  the  darkness  visible.  And  when 
Jesus  tells  me  to  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  Him,  He 
does  not  mean  only  the  sacrifice  of  ease,  or  wealth,  or 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


importunate  desire ;  He  means  also  that  cross  of  un- 
answered mystery  which    He  lays  upon  my  intellect, 
and  which  is  not  the  least  heavy  of  the  many  crosses 
He  gives  the  children  of  men  to  bear.    But  He  has  told 
me  enough.     He  has  revealed   the  infinite  and  (om- 
passionate  Fatherhood  of  God.     He  has  given  me  an 
absolutely  clear  and  infallible  code  of  conduct.     He  has 
shown  me,  not  merely  my  duty,  but  how  it  may  be  done, 
and   has   promised   me   a    Divine  influx   of   strength, 
whereby  I  may  accomplish  it.     He  is  alive  for  ever- 
more, and  stands  even  now  close  to  each  of  us,  as  He 
did  to  Thomas  in  the  very  moment  when  his  heart  was 
sick  with  doubt.     And  what  happened  then  ?     Thomas 
had  demanded  proofs,  and  now  he  had  them  ;  but  he  did 
not  use  them.     He  thrust  no  hand  into  His  side  or  finger 
into  the  wound.     He  did  not  ask  whether  this  solemn 
Presence  was  the  vision  of  hysteric  ecstasy  or  hallucina- 
tion.    All  he  knew  was  that  he  saw  his  Master,  and 
the  warmth  of  that  living  Presence  streamed    round 
him,   and  his   heart  broke   out  in  the  rapturous  cry: 
"  My  Lord  and   my  God  ! "     Brother,  Christ   is  now 
breathing  on  thee  the  breath  of  Hfe.    Dismiss  the  voices 
of  the  intellect,  and  let  the  heart  speak.     Believe  with 
all  thine  heart,  and  thou  shalt  enter  into  peace.     O  that 
to  any  doubters  who  may  read  these  words,  and  to  my 
unknown  correspondent,  there  may  come  the  dawn  of 
faith,  heralded  by  that  heart-piercing  cry  of  Thomas 
called  Didymus,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God  I  '* 


III. 

ON  IMPULSE   AND    OPPORTUNITY, 

"And  there  followed  Him  a  certain  young  man  having  a  linen 
cloth  cast  about  his  naked  body;  and  the  young  men  laid  hold  on 
him:  and  he  left  the  linen  cloth,  and  fled  from  them  naked/'— 
MarkxIv.  51,  52. 

THIS  incident  is  related  by  St.  Mark  only,  and  is 
one  of  those  undesigned  touches  of  realism  which 
gives  dramatic  completeness  to  the  scene.  Christ  is  in 
Gethsemane;  it  is  the  hour  and  power  of  darkness. 
He  knows  now  that  nothing  but  the  Cross  awaits  Him, 
that  He  has  spoken  to  a  wicked  and  gainsaying  people, 
and  that  the  bitter  cup  of  defeat  must  be  drunk  to 
the  last  dregs.  He  knows  also — and  that  is  the  most 
poignant  thought  of  all — that  His  own  disciples  have 
had  no  real  or  stable  faith  in  Him,  and  that  His  own 
familiar  friend  has  lifted  up  his  heel  against  Him. 
When  Christ  stepped  out  of  the  supper-chamber  and 
passed  through  the  moonlit  olive-gardens,  singing  a 
psalm  with  His  disciples,  it  was  in  truth  a  requiem  for 
great  hopes,  a  dirge  for  ended  faith  and  confidence. 

Is  there  any  bitterer  trouble  to  a  great  soul  that  has 
toiled  for  others  than  to  feel  that  its  toil  has  been  wasted, 
to  know  that  its  heroic  love  is  answered  by  inditference, 
its  self-sacrifice  by  hostility  and  contempt  ?     Can  God 


42  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

call  any  human  spirit  to  a  more  tragic  Gethsemane 
than  this  ?  It  was  that  and  more — the  crushing  sense 
of  hum  1  sin,  the  burden  of  the  wrong  of  others — 
which  Christ  felt  in  that  hour  when  the  torches  of 
His  foes  flashed  through  the  shadows  of  the  olive- 
gardens  and  the  trampling  of  innumerable  feet  fell 
upon  His  ear.  The  whole  city  was  aroused  ;  and  in  the 
tumult  and  excitement,  probably  the  youth  mentioned 
in  this  text  sprang  from  his  bed  and  ran  toward  the 
garden.  Who  he  was  and  what  he  knew  of  Christ  it 
is  impossible  to  say ;  but  it  is  not  unnatural  to  suppose 
that  he  may  often  have  seen  Christ,  and  heard  Him,  and 
may  possibly  have  loved  Him.  He  may  have  been  one 
of  those  young  men  who  had  questioned  Christ  about 
eternal  life,  and  whom  Jesus  had  loved  for  the  integrity 
and  simplicity  of  his  spirit.  That  he  was  no  stranger 
to  Christ  we  may  infer  from  the  fact  that  he  follows 
Him  when  others  flee ;  and  that  he  must  have  felt  for 
Christ  some  passionate  impulse  of  love  or  curiosity  we 
may  judge  from  the  fact  that  he  leaps  from  his  bed 
and  runs  nearly  naked  to  the  garden  at  the  first  sound 
of  approaching  danger.  Did  he  hope  to  defend  Christ  ? 
Did  he  hope  to  warn  Him  or  to  save  Him  ?  We 
cannot  tell,  but  this  at  least  is  clear  :  here  is  a  young 
man  moved  by  a  generous  and  noble  impulse  toward 
Jesus,  who  has  a  supreme  chance  of  proving  his  love 
and  courage  in  the  hour  of  Christ's  deadliest  peril,  but 
who  loses  the  golden  opportunity,  and  in  the  confusion 
of  the  arrest  forsakes  Jesus,  as  did  all  the  others. 
There,    then,    the   history  terminates ;   and  nothing 


ON  IMPULSE  AND   OPPORTUNITY.  43 

more  can  be  conjectured  or  explained.  But  the  inci- 
dent is  fruitful  of  suggestion,  and  is  worthy  of  your 
thought.  Fix  your  eyes  then  upon  the  scene,  the 
sublime  figure  of  Jesus  standing  calm  and  undefended 
in  the  presence  of  His  foes ;  the  tumult,  the  terror, 
the  confusion,  of  the  arrest;  and  somewhere  in  the 
crowd,  his  eager  face  revealed  to  us  by  the  broken 
lights  of  the  torches  or  the  moon,  this  youth,  with 
who  can  say  what  a  conflict  of  noble  passion  in  his 
heart?  We  are  going  to  talk  with  this  young  man. 
We  are  going  to  ask  him  the  secret  of  his  conduct,  and 
learn  the  secret  of  our  own.  Look  pt  ^im  well,  then  : 
a  young  man  seized  by  young  men,  struggling  to  get 
at  Christ,  half  throttled  and  wholly  frightened  in  the 
attempt ;  that  is  the  scene  which  we  must  keep  in  view 
while  we  talk  together. 

**  There  followed  Him  a  certain  young  man."  That 
I  take  to  be  the  statement  of  the  supreme  attraction 
there  is  in  Jesus  Christ  for  youth.  Have  3'ou  ever 
pondered  the  fact  that  Jesus  Himself  was  a  young 
Man,  and  that  all  His  marvellous  life  was  lived  out  in  a 
brief  period  of  years  which  never  reached  maturity  ? 
Our  adoration  of  Christ  not  infrequently  obscures 
a  lesson  like  this,  obvious  as  it  is  in  studying 
the  life  of  the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  There  is  to  me 
something  infinitely  touching  and  impressive  in  this 
youthfulness  of  Jesus  Christ.  We  are  accustomed 
to-day  to  leaders  of  thought  and  society  who  are 
grey  with  service,  and  it  is  rarely  that  a  man  leaps 
into   notice    now   till    middle   life    is    reached.      And 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


therefore  it  is,  I  suppose,  that  we  talk  so  wisely  of  the 
need  there  is  for  men  to  learn  the  world  before  they 
attempt  to  reform  it ;  and  the  favourite  way  of  silencing 
youth  is  to  sneer  at  its  lack  of  experience.  It  is  a 
custom  of  long  tradition  to  make  arithmetical  computa- 
tions about  the  ignorance  of  youth,  as  if  wisdom  were 
the  sole  monopoly  of  age  and  folly  the  prerogative  of 
youth.  It  was  precisely  in  this  way  that  grey-headed 
doctors  of  the  law  treated  Jesus ;  they  computed  His 
birthday  when  they  could  not  answer  His  arguments, 
and  closed  all  controversy  by  remarking,  *^  He  is  not 
fifty  years  old,  and  does  he  teach  us  ? "  And  as 
we  see  this  young  Carpenter,  fresh  from  the  homely 
rusticities  of  Nazareth,  standing  up  before  the  elders 
of  His  people,  teaching,  rebuking,  illumining  them, 
what  is  the  moral  significance  of  the  spectacle? 
We  see  that  Jesus  represents  the  glory  and  supre- 
macy of  youth.  He  teaches  us  that  intuition  is 
Diviner  than  experience,  and  that  the  intuitions  of 
youth  are  a  nobler  force  than  the  experience  of  age. 
All  this  supernatural  wisdom,  from  whose  founts  the 
ages  have  drunk,  is  the  utterance  of  a  young  Man  ; 
all  this  Divine  life,  whose  deeds  have  stirred  the  souls 
of  millions,  was  the  -life  of  a  young  Man,  who  barely 
touched  the  threshold  of  mid-age,  when  the  sudden  dark- 
ness fell  and  covered  all.  And  the  lesson  is  neither 
new  nor  strange.  The  trumpet  of  God  peals  to  every 
human  soul,  ^^What  thou  doest,  do  quickly."  The 
greatest  deeds  of  the  world,  the  greatest  poetry,  the 
deepest  and  most  fruitful  influences,  the  most  splendid 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY.  45 

conquests  and  achievements — these  are  all  the  work  of 
young  men.  He  who  does  not  come  upon  the  stage 
of  action  till  mid-life  finds  half  the  audience  gone,  and 
hears  the  fingers  of  death  busy  with  the  pulleys  that 
bring  down  the  curtain.  Life  is  too  short  for  the 
postponement  of  great  purposes ;  he  who  moves  the 
world  must  bring  to  his  task  the  courageous  buoyancy 
of  youth,  not  the  procrastinating  caution  and  timidity 
of  age.  There  is  always  room  for  youth  in  the  world. 
The  world  is  always  crying  out  in  its  weariness  for 
the  power  of  youth  to  come  and  do  what  the  slow 
hands  of  age  cannot  accomplish.  It  is  to  a  young  Man 
the  world  owes  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  it  is  to 
a  young  Man  we  owe  the  redemption  of  the  world  : 
and  what  wonder  is  it,  then,  that  Jesus  Christ 
should  be  the  centre  of  intense  attraction  for  the 
youxig  ? 

And  you  will  notice,  too,  as  you  read  the  life  of 
Christ,  that  He  also  felt  a  strong  attraction  to  the 
young.  He  reciprocated  their  hopes.  He  loved  them 
for  the  freshness  of  their  impulses,  and  was  very  sorry 
when  they  turned  away  from  Him.  People  have  aske3  I 
me  sometim.es,  ^^  Why  do  you  so  often  preach  to  young  \ 
men  ?  Why  not  preach  a  special  sermon  to  old  men  ? 
Why  this  intense  desire  and  effort  to  help  and  save 
young  men  ?  "  I  will  tell  you  why  it  is.  It  is  because 
I  believe  that  if  ever  the  kingdom  of  Jesus  Christ  is  to 
be  set  up  upon  the  earth,  it  must  be  young  men  who 
will  lay  the  foundations*  of  its  strength,  and  shape  the 
pillars  of  its  splendour,  and  be  the  master-architects  oi 


46  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

its  success.  The  kingdom  of  Christ  is  not  something 
we  go  to,  but  that  comes  to  us;  it  means  the  complete 
purification  of  human  Hfe,  in  all  its  offices,  till  the  will 
of  God  is  done  on  earth  even  as  it  is  done  in  heaven  : 
and  if  ever  that  stupendous  battle  is  won,  it  is  the 
young  men  of  the  age,  and  of  the  ages,  who  must  win 
it.  Ask  yourselves  how  new  thoughts  infect  society, 
how  a  new  theory  of  poetry,  or  philosophy,  or  science 
becomes  established ;  and  the  reply  always  is  that  you 
must  first  infect  the  young  with  its  message,  and  then 
you  can  safely  leave  them  to  do  the  rest.  Take  for 
instance,  a  great  poet  like  Wordsworth,  who  writes 
amid  all  but  universal  scorn  for  nearly  forty  years,  and 
whose  name  is  received  by  every  critic  of  his  early 
days  with  guffaws  of  brutal  ridicule.  Then  there  is  a 
change,  and  Oxford  receives  him  with  reverence,  and 
by  common  consent  and  acclamation  he  becomes  the 
Laureate  of  his  country.  How  did  this  happen  ?  The 
explanation  is  that  those  who  jabbered  idiotic  abuse  at 
Wordsworth  were  old  men,  and  those  who  believed  in 
him  were  young  men.  They  were  the  leaven  that 
leavened  the  whole  lump.  They  carried  their  evangel 
with  them,  and  they  spread  it.  At  length  the  hour 
came  when  no  man  was  left  to  contradict  them,  and 
then  the  slow  public  believed  their  witness  ;  and  a  new 
poetry  of  pure  and  simple  sentiment,  which  taught  the 
dignity  and  sang  the  sanctity  of  the  homeliest  human 
life,  received  its  due  reward  in  the  praise  of  all  the 
world.  It  is  so  in  all  the  great  kingdom  of  human 
thought :  the  young  men  are  the  crusaders  who  conquer 


ON  IMPULSE  AND   OPPORTUNITY,  47 

the  centuries.  The  world  belongs  to  its  youth;  and 
what  the  youth  of  a  nation  is,  that  the  future  of  the 
nation  must  be.  Is  it  then  a  contemptible,  because  a 
merely  sensational,  impulse  which  urges  me  to  speak 
to  this  vanguard  of  the  future  which  I  see  around  me  ? 
No.  If  I  speak  specially  to  you,  it  is  because  I  know 
that  if  drunkenness  and  profligacy  shall  cease  to  curse 
the  twentieth  century,  it  is  because  you  will  be  pure 
and  sober ;  if  juster  views  of  God  and  human  duty  will 
prevail,  it  is  because  you  must  first  imbibe  them ;  if 
there  shall  rise  a  nobler  and  completer  society  of  more 
helpful  human  hands  and  more  serviceable  lives, — wealth 
redeemed  from  selfishness  and  poverty  from  dishonour, 
what  is  vile  in  human  custom  purged  into  purity,  what 
is  false  illumined  with  the  truth,  what  is  true  strength- 
ened into  triumph — if,  in  a  word,  this  world  of  weak  and 
struggling  creatures  shall  indeed  recognise  Christ  as  the 
Light  of  life  and  Leader  of  its  thought,  it  is  because  you 
will  first  find  Him,  and  teach  in  yourselves  the  lessons 
of  this  Diviner  obedience,  and  be  in  yourselves  the 
forces  of  this  Diviner  victory.  That  work  none  but 
you  can  do.  Let  the  old  man  rest ;  his  work  is  done, 
and  the  time  of  his  departure  is  at  hand.  But  with 
infinite  love  and  expectation  the  great  Captain  of  souls 
looks  on  you,  the  young,  tlie  strong,  the  eager,  whose 
hearts  are  all  athrob  with  forceful  impulses  and 
passions,  and  cries,  ^'  Will  ye  also  be  My  disciples  ?  " 

"They  all  forsook  Him  and  fled,"  but  this  young 
man  followed  Jesus.  That  was  a  noble  impulse,  and 
impulse  is  one  of  the  finest  qualities  of  youth.     And 


THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


what  is  impulse  ?  It  is  an  act  of  the  heart  rather  than 
of  the  will,  a  spontaneous  movement  of  the  soul.  It  is 
impulse  which  makes  us  love,  and  justifies  itself  by 
creating  love  in  others.  By  what  law  is  it  that  the 
lark  springs  aloft  at  the  first  sign  of  day,  and  is 
already  singing  at  heaven's  gate  when  it  is  yet  half 
dark  below,  and  the  everlasting  doors  have  not  opened 
for  the  entrance  of  the  sun  ?  It  is  an  impulse  in  its 
own  nature  which  bids  it  sing  and  soar,  and  sends  it 
up  like  winged  music  into  the  waste  heavens,  which  it 
floods  with  invisible  delight.  By  what  law  is  it  that 
the  little  child  flushes  when  the  father's  footstep  is 
heard,  and  leaps  up  to  his  lips  to  welcome  him  ?  It  is 
simply  the  impulse  of  love,  not  meditated  nor  pre- 
meditated, the  swift,  spontaneous  action  of  the  heart. 
Or  what  force  is  it  which  prompts  the  man  who  has 
never  dreamed  of  doing  anything  heroic  when  he  rose 
at  morn,  to  suddenly  leap  into  the  running  tide  to  rescue 
some  poor  soul  he  never  saw  before,  and  does  not  even 
know  ?  It  is  impulse,  the  strenuous  impulse  of  courage 
and  humanity.  It  was  such  an  impulse  which  made 
this  young  man  suddenly  range  himself  on  the  side  of 
Christ  in  the  moment  when  all  others  had  deserted 
Him.  For  one  brief,  glorious  moment  he  was  the  only 
human  soul  in  all  this  world  of  men  who  dared  to  stand 
with  Jesus.  Quicker  than  we  can  describe  it  the  whole 
drama  was  over;  there  was  no  time  for  reason  or 
debate.  And  who  does  not  justify,  and  who  will  not 
applaud,  the  impulse  ?  Who  does  not  perceive  that  it 
is  in  such  Divine  moments  of  intense  feeling  we  see  the 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY,  49 

narrow  way  to  eternal  life,  and  as  we  look  back  upon 
them  we  know  that 

"Just  this  or  that  poor  impulse, 
"Which  for  once  had  play  unstifled, 
Seems  the  whole  work  of  a  lifetime 
That  away  the  rest  has  trifled"? 

Oh,  I  know  that  it  is  easy  enough  and  common  enough 
to  scorn  impulse  and  talk  of  impulsive  people  as 
though  they  were  foolish  and  hysterical  people ;  but  I 
say,  Give  me  your  impulse,  and  you  may  keep  your 
caution.  I  never  heard  that  caution  ever  did  anything 
yet  but  put  the  drag  upon  the  wheel  of  progress,  but 
impulse  is  the  flaming  force  which  drives  it.  If  the 
lark  debated  how  it  could  well  climb  up  the  steep, 
invisible  stairways  of  the  heavens,  or  the  child  why 
it  should  kiss  its  parent,  or  the  man  whether  he  was 
justified  in  saving  the  drowning,  there  would  be 
neither  song,  nor  love,  nor  courage  left  us.  And  it  is 
because  love  is  an  impulse,  and  because  the  relation 
between  us  and  Christ,  if  there  be  any  relation  at  all,  is 
love,  that  I  bid  you  now  follow  the  impulse  w^hich 
impels  you  toward  Christ.  Do  not  fight  against  it; 
follow  it.  Let  the  heart  act  for  you,  and  the  brain  will 
follow.  You  are  not  asked  to  explain  Christ  or  under- 
stand Him  ;  you  are  asked  to  love  Him.  Let  your 
impulse  leap  up  into  the  sky  that  is  yet  dark,  and,  Hke 
the  lark,  it  will  see  the  light  while  yet  the  song  is  on 
the  lip.  The  great,  startling,  tragic,  decisive  acts  of 
life  are  all  sudden.  They  are  the  work  of  moments. 
Our  act  leaps  from  us  like  an  immitigable  fire,  which 

4 


so  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

we  can  no  longer  restrain,  because  we  feel,  we  think, 
we  love,  intensely.  And  in  such  an  intense  moment  of 
sacred  impulse  we  find  Christ,  we  love  Him,  we  side 
with  Him,  we  adore  Him,  and  follow  Him.  We  sur- 
render ourselves  to  the  guidance  of  the  heart ;  and  in 
the  surrender  of  ourselves  we  find  the  Son  of  God, 
and  are  vivified  by  His  embrace. 

But,  you  will  say,  is  impulse  a  safe  guide  ?  May  it 
not  lead  men  to  ruinous  folly  and  punishment  ?  Yes, 
a  bad  impulse  may,  but  not  a  good  one.  There  are 
impulses  of  the  flesh  and  impulses  of  the  spirit,  im- 
pulses which  we  know  to  be  from  our  baser  selves  and 
impulses  which  flash  on  us  from  all  that  is  highest  in 
us  ;  and  we  can  readily  enough  distinguish  them,  and 
know  the  good  from  the  evil.  It  is  because  men  follow 
the  bad  impulse — the  tingling  of  the  sensual  nerve,  the 
craving  of  the  bestial  appetite,  the  thousand  hungry 
passions  which  consume  us — that  they  lose  the  power 
of  feehng  noble  impulses,  and  learn  to  think  of  all  im- 
pulse as  a  ruinous  and  delusive  thing.  You  must 
judge  the  source  of  an  impulse  by  its  quality  and 
object,  and  it  is  by  that  rule  I  judge  the  impulse  of  this 
young  man  right  and  good.  For  what  was  its  object  ? 
It  was  Christ.  What  was  its  quality  ?  It  was  cour- 
ageous. He  felt  the  heroic  fibre  thrill  in  him;  the 
forlorn  majesty  of  Christ  appealed  to  him ;  he  longed 
to  stand  beside  Jesus,  and  defend  Him,  and  be  His 
comrade  to  the  death.  Do  you  feel  that  ?  Do  you 
recognise  Jesus  Christ  as  the  Captain  of  salvation,  not 
in  any  narrow  and  selfish  sense,  but  literally  of  the 


ON  IMPULSE  AND   OPPORTUNITY.  l\ 

world's  salvation  ;  that  He  is  fighting  for  the  redemption 
of  man  from  all  sorrow  and  wrong  into  all  purity  and 
glory?  Oh,  why  so  many  men,  called  or  miscalled 
Christians,  do  so  little  for  the  world,  is  because  they 
recognise  Christ  only  in  relation  to  themselves,  and  not 
in  His  relation  to  the  world  at  all.  Christ  is  to  them 
personal  safety,  not  personal  service.  With  those  im- 
measurable, Divine,  unselfish  aims  which  led  Christ  to 
the  Cross  they  have  no  sympathy,  because  they  have 
no  understanding.  They  see  the  Christ  who  heals, 
not  the  Christ  who  serves,  who  suffers,  who  rules,  who 
is  against  every  wrong  and  tyranny,  and  is  the  cour- 
ageous Champion  of  all  the  poor,  and  trampled,  and 
despised.  They  see  the  Christ  who  utters  comfortable 
words  and  kind,  not  the  Christ  of  Gethsemane,  drinking 
the  cup  of  bitterness  He  might  have  avoided,  alone 
because  He  dared  to  die  for  righteousness'  sake, 
deserted  because  none  other  dared  so  much  as  He. 
And  it  is  the  Christ  of  Gethsemane  we  need  to  see. 
We  need  to  catch  that  glow  of  spiritual  comradeship 
with  Him  which  makes  us  cry, — 

"O  Thou  pale  form,  so  dimly  seen,  deep-eyed, 

Do  I  not 
Pant  when  I  read  of  the  consummate  deeds  ? 
Do  I  not  shake  to  hear  aught  question  Thee?*' 

The  sort  of  religion  we  want  is  the  courageous  religion 
which  is  not  afraid  to  face  Gethsemane  and  Calvary, 
and  holds  not  its  life  dear  unto  it  for  the  sake  of  the 
Gospel.  There  is  no  night  which  darkens  over  the 
wide  world  when  the  soldiers  do  not  go  out  to  seize 


5t  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

Christ,  no  morning  which  dawns  when  the  world  has 
not  got  its  Calvary  ready  where  Christ  is  crucified 
afresh.  The  mere  sentimental  impulse  which  makes 
you  admire  Christ  we  do  not  want;  thousands  in 
Jerusalem  on  the  night  of  His  arrest  had  that,  who 
were  not  willing  to  lose  an  hour's  rest  on  His  behalf, 
or  to  lift  a  voice  in  His  defence  upon  the  fatal  day 
which  followed.  We  want  the  brave  impulse  which 
makes  men  range  themselves  on  the  side  of  Christ  in 
the  hour  of  His  worst  desolation,  when  He  is  despised 
in  the  office  and  jeered  at  in  the  workshop,  when  men 
forget  Him  in  the  avarice  of  trade  and  insult  Him  in 
the  frivolity  of  pleasure,  when  the  world  marches  all 
its  forces  on  Gethsemane,  and  the  hoarse  cry  of  the 
people  fills  the  air,  "Away  with  Him!  He  is  not  fit 
to  live ! "  When  Wilberforce  was  in  the  thick  of  his 
great  agitation  against  the  slave  trade,  an  old,  gouty 
peer  said  to  him,  "  So,  young  man,  you  intend  to  reform 
society,  do  you  ?  Do  you  see  that?**  said  he,  pointing 
to  a  cross  near  by.  "  That  is  what  those  come  to  who 
attempt  to  reform  society."  And  it  is  true  still,  and 
true  for  you,  if  you  are  bold  enough  to  make  it  so. 
Dare  you  be  Christ's  disciple?  Dare  you  follow  the 
courageous  impulse  of  the  heart  which  makes  you  feel 
the  world  well  lost  for  Christ  ?  It  is  the  very  glory 
and  quality  of  youth  to  be  courageous.  It  is  youth 
which  climbs  "  the  imminent  deadly  breach,"  and  faces 
the  deadly  hail  of  battle ;  it  is  youth  which  defies  the 
tyranny  of  custom  and  the  hatred  of  the  world.  We 
have  compassion  for  age  that  sees  fears  in  the  way,  but 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY.  53 


youth  which  is  cowardly  is  contemptible.  There  is 
not  one  of  you  who  would  not  rather  be  exiled  for  ever 
than  be  branded  as  a  coward  and  know  that  you 
deserved  it.  That  is  why  Christ  wants  you.  That  is 
why  your  place  is  at  the  side  of  Christ.  When  all 
men  forsake  Him,  it  is  the  hour  of  youth  to  prove  its 
chivalry  and  rally  to  His  side.  Dare  you  do  that? 
Will  you  follow  the  impulse  of  the  soul  which  draws 
you  to  the  Son  of  God  ?  See,  the  torches  flash  upon  a 
hundred  angry  faces ;  spears  are  lifted ;  oaths  are 
uttered ;  blows  are  struck  :  but  He,  the  supreme  Master 
of  the  world,  stands  calm,  and  turning  His  piercing 
eyes  on  you,  cries,  "  If  any  man  will  be  My  disciple, 
let  him  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  Me." 

Turn  the  subject  round  again  :  ^^  And  the  young  men 
laid  hold  on  him :  and  he  left  his  linen  cloth,  and  fled  from 
them  naked"  It  was  a  hard  trial ;  when  Apostles  fled, 
one  young  man  might  well  flee  :  yet  he  behaved  so  nobly 
while  the  power  of  that  self-forgetful  impulse  was  on 
him  that  we  could  weep  tears  of  disappointment  to  see 
him  do  this.  To  have  been  the  only  one  of  all  man- 
kind who  went  with  Jesus  to  prison  and  to  judgment, 
the  solitary  soul  faithful  among  the  faithless  found — 
that  was  the  part  he  might  have  played ;  and,  oh,  what 
a  part  to  miss  !  And  see,  they  were  not  old  men  who 
dismayed  him  and  broke  his  purpose  down.  There  are 
young  men  against  Jesus  as  well  as  old  men,  and  there 
is  no  limit  of  age  in  that  crowd  which  mocks  Christ 
in  Gethsemane.  Perhaps  these  young  men  who  laid 
hands  upon  him  knew  him :  old  comrades  of  light  and 


54  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

jesting  hours,  who  thought  him  mad  ;  cautious  youths 
who  intended  risking  nothing  themselves,  and  objected 
to  anybody  else  doing  so  ;  youths  roused  from  the  mid- 
night debauch  by  the  riot  in  the  street,  who  found  a 
piquant  jest  in  hustling  this  young  man  and  cursing 
him  for  his  folly,  a  folly  far  too  wise  for  them  to  un- 
derstand, a  madness  too  Divine  for  them  to  dream  of. 
Sooner  than  he  guessed  his  courage  was  put  to  the  test, 
and  it  broke  down  miserably  beneath  the  strain.  He  had 
no  time  to  grasp  Christ's  hand  or  touch  His  garment ; 
in  an  instant  the  irrevocable  deed  was  done.  Terror 
seized  him ;  and  before  he  could  ask  what  he  had  done, 
he  had  left  his  raiment  in  the  hands  of  his  foes,  and 
had  fled  into  the  night.  Breathless  and  frantic,  we  see 
him  plunge  into  the  deep  shadows  of  the  olive  trees ; 
and  as  he  runs  a  burst  of  jeering  laughter  follows 
him  ;  and,  worse  than  any  taunt  of  man,  there  burns 
in  his  heart  the  bitter  sense  of  his  own  defeat  and 
cowardice. 

^^  And  he  fled  naked^^  Cannot  we  too  well  fill  up  the 
picture  for  ourselves  ?  Here  is  a  youth  but  lately 
come  up  to  the  university.  Far  away  in  some  quiet 
spot  of  north  or  west  you  had  your  home  among  the 
simple  faiths  and  pieties  of  rustic  life.  Your  ears  were 
familiar  with  the  Bible  from  a  child,  and  its  words  were 
woven  into  the  very  texture  of  your  mind.  You  knew 
what  it  was  to  hear  a  father's  prayers,  and  to  watch  a 
mother's  life  of  steadfast  purity  and  self-denying  toil. 
You  heard  prayer,  and  you  prayed ;  you  read  the 
Scripture,  and  loved  it ;  you  were  full  of  simple   trust, 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY.  55 

and  never  doubted.  But  now  what  is  yoiir  history  ? 
You  have  got  into  the  wrong  set,  and  your  piety  is 
shaken.  You  have  learned  to  think  lightly  of  religion 
and  to  jest  at  purity.  You  have  sat  in  the  seat  of  the 
scorner,  or  have  at  least  listened  to  its  cynicism ;  and 
wherever  young  men  gather,  the  seat  of  the  scorner  is 
there  :  and  the  devil  usually  takes  good  care  to  fill  it 
with  a  competent  professor.  If  you  ask  me  what  has 
happened  to  you,  I  can  tell  you  in  a  sentence :  the 
young  men  have  laid  hands  on  you,  and  your  faith 
in  God  is  gone. 

Here,  again,  is  a  youth  who  once  had  a  fair  ideal  of 
what  life  ought  to  be,  and  strove  to  realise  it.  You 
valued  purity  and  loved  truth,  and  you  were  pure  and 
truthful  almost  without  conscious  effort.  Your  days 
were  sweet  with  health,  and  your  sleep  wholesome  with 
peace ;  Nature  breathed  her  joy  into  your  soul,  and  God 
visited  you  in  hopes  and  yearnings  after  goodness.  I 
know  what  has  happened  to  you.  It  takes  no  very 
penetrating  eye  to  discern  the  marks  of  a  great  catas- 
trophe upon  you.  The  frankness  of  your  smile  Is  gone, 
and  the  impress  of  hateful  knowledge  is  on  your  face. 
The  young  men  have  laid  hold  of  you  ;  the  black  sheep 
of  the  warehouse  have  infected  you.  Comradeship, 
which  should  have  strengthened  you,  has  slain  you. 
You  can  listen  to  abominable  things  without  shrink- 
ing, and  say  vile  things  without  shame;  and  there  is 
pollution  in  your  presence  and  peril  to  the  pure  in  your 
very  touch.  Once  you  were  not  far  from  the  kingdom 
of  God.     Your  impulse  would  have  driven  you  to  the 


56  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

side  of  Christ ;  but  the  young  men  laid  their  hands  upon 
you,  and  you  fled.  The  calamity  which  has  befallen 
you  is  that  your  purity  is  gone. 

There  are  those  of  you  also  who  have  not  lost  faith 
or  purity,  but  you  have  lost  the  impulse  toward  religion. 
The  spiritual  force  that  once  was  in  you  has  decayed, 
and    mainly    because    you    refused    to    yield    to    it. 
Religion  has  become  to  you  a  formal  thing,  and  appeals 
fall  dead  upon  you,  because  your  heart  is  a  vacuum. 
The  vital  air  of  religious  life  has  been  pumped  out  of 
you   by  trifling  with   holy  things  and   resisting   holy 
impulses.      The   word   for  you  also  is  true  that  the 
young  men,  the  C3^nic  and  the  worldling,  have  laid  hands 
on  you  ;  and  you  have  fled.     Oh,  how  solemn  and  far- 
reaching  are  these  pregnant  words  !    How  many  hungry, 
empty,    naked     souls    crowd    round    us    who    have 
renounced  Christ  for  fear  of  man,  and  who  turn  hither 
and  thither,  seeking  rest  and  finding  none,  conscious  of 
cowardice,  and  tortured  by  the  knowledge  of  weakness, 
and  ever  fleeing  through  the  darkness  to  that  deeper 
darkness  where  character  acquires  eternal  permanence, 
and  he  that  is  unholy  is  unholy  still !     Can  I  do  you  a 
better  service  then  than  warn  you  against  the  peril  of 
evil  comradeship?     Do  we   not   all   know  men,   gay, 
brilliant,  fascinating,  with  a  natural  quahty  of  leader- 
ship, whose  work  it  is  to  corrupt  the  purity  and  sap 
the  faith  of  those  around  them  ?     I  will  tell  you  what 
is  the  common  curse  of  all  places  where  young  men 
gather  together,  whether  in  the  school,  the  university, 
the  barracks,  the  club,  or  the  office.     It  is  an  inordinate 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY,  57 


worship  of  merely  intellectual  force  or  the  qualities  of 
personal  fascination.     The  character  of  a  man   is  the 
last  thing  you  inquire  about.     You  ask,  Is  he  witty? 
Can  he  sing  a  good  song  ?     Is  he  clever  ?     Can  he  tell 
a  good  story  ?     You  do  not  ask,  Does  he  love  God  ? 
Does  he  honour  purity,  and  meet  the  great  demands  of 
truth  and  righteousness?     You  are  attracted    by   the 
specious  glitter  of  mere  surface  qualities ;  and  you  do 
not  ask  about  the  qualities  of  his  heart,  his  life,  his 
action.     How   many   men    have    I    known   who   have 
excelled  in  all  these  qualities  of  jovial  comradeship  with- 
out possessing  one  single  element  of  noble  character  I 
And  the  influence  of  such  men  is  utterly  destructive, 
and  their  course  in  life  is  marked  by  the  poisonous 
deposits  they  have  left  behind  in  other  lives.     And  how 
many  amiable  and  well-meaning  youths  have  I  known 
who  were  the  victims  of  such  men  !     Evil  communica- 
tions have  corrupted  good  manners :  purity  has  perished 
in  the  polluted  atmosphere  of  the  comradeship  they  chose, 
just  as  flowers  cannot  live  in' the  reeking  air  of  the  bar- 
room ;   truth   has   died   in   them,    because   they   have 
admired  the  brilliant  liar,  and  the  love  of  God,  because 
they  have  followed  the  lead  of  a  man  in  whose  thoughts 
God  had  no  place ;  and  if  I  wrote  their  lives,  I  could  do 
so  in  a  single  sentence  :  ''  The  young  men  laid  hold  on 
ihem,  and  they  fled."     It  is  a  sufficient  biography ;  and 
all  over  these  lands  there  are  homes  where  joy  is  dead 
and    parents   weep  in  secret  for  the  sons  who  have 
been  taken  in  the  toils  of  evil  comradeship. 

There  are  two  questions,  then,  for  you  to  determine ; 


58  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

and  the  first  is,  What  is  your  relation  to  Christ  ?  I  do 
not  say  to  religion  as  a  theological  system  or  to  the 
Church  as  a  religious  organisation,  but  to  Christ. 
Here  is  One  who  claims  to  be  the  Son  of  God  and  the 
Master  of  the  world.  You  acknowledge  that  claim,  in 
part  at  least,  when  you  join  in  His  worship.  If  that 
supreme  cla'm  is  admitted,  then  you  must  define  your 
relation  to  this  Christ,  who  is  alive  for  evermore,  and 
by  whom  you  will  be  judged.  In  all  the  closing  scenes 
of  Christ's  life,  we  see  Him,  not  in  His  relation  to  the 
multitude,  but  to  individuals  :  to  Caiaphas,  to  Herod, 
to  Peter,  to  Pilate ;  and  it  is  so  here.  In  the  intense 
light  which  falls  on  this  scene,  we  see  Christ  and  this 
young  man  alone ;  and  all  other  figures  for  the  time  are 
lost  in  darkness.  The  tragedy  of  Gethsemane  is  sus- 
pended until  this  personal  incident  is  settled.  And  so 
you  stand  in  sharp,  clear,  unmistakable  juxtaposition 
with  Christ ;  and  you  must  determine  what  your  future 
relation  to  Him  shall  be.  Do  you  hate  Him  or  love 
Him  ?  Are  you  for  or  against  Him  ?  Is  His  cause 
your  cause  ?  The  Christ  of  Gethsemane  stands  before 
you  in  the  unhealed  wrongs  and  sorrows  of  His 
world ;  do  you  mean  to  help  or  perpetuate  them  ? 
Do  you  elect  to  stand  with  the  brutal  and  passionate 
crowd  that  pushes  Christ  on  to  execution  or  with 
this  solitary  human  soul  who  dares  to  follow  when 
others  flee  and  loves  while  others  hate  ?  Sooner  or 
later  that  choice  will  be  forced  on  you,  for  Christ 
permits  no  compromise.  It  is  a  question  of  anta- 
gonism or  service,  and  ask  yourself  whether  it  is  not 


ON  IMPULSE  AND  OPPORTUNITY.  59 

time    that  you    boldly  defined  what  your   relation    to 
Jesus  is. 

The  second  question  is,  Do  you  want  religion  ?  If 
you  turn  to  the  story  of  Pentecost,  you  will  find  that 
those  who  received  the  Holy  Ghost  on  that  memorable 
day  were  not  the  promiscuous  multitu^le,  but  "devout 
men,"  already  impregnated  with  religious  truth.  They 
were  seekers  after  truth,  who  had  followed  the  light 
they  had  close  up.  Just  as  steel  once  polarised  is 
always  susceptible  to  the  magnetic  force,  so  they  were 
polarised  by  previous  devoutness;  and  when  the  Apostles 
addressed  them,  the  living  current  of  the  Divine  mag- 
netism flowed  into  them  without  a  break.  So  you 
may  roughly  divide  the  mass  of  men  into  those  who 
want  religion  and  those  who  care  nothing  for  it.  The 
young  men  who  laid  hold  on  this  youth  did  not  want 
religion ;  they  were  the  riffraff  of  the  city,  the  mid- 
night roysterers  ''flown  with  insolence  and  wine,"  to 
whom  the  whole  occasion  was  adventure.  This  young 
man  did  want  religion,  and  was  conscious  of  the  charm 
of  Christ.  The  youth  whose  weekday  life  is  passed 
in  the  bar-room  and  the  billiard  saloon,  and  who  enters 
the  sanctuary  on  the  seventh  day  in  occasional  obedi- 
ence to  troublesome  custom,  does  not  really  want 
religion.  He  has  no  real  interest  in  it.  But  the  youth 
who  loves  truth  and  wants  to  find  it  has  already 
prepared  himself  for  its  reception.  Have  you  done 
this  ?  Do  not  pretend  an  interest  in  religion  you  do 
not  feel ;  that  is  adding,  insincerity  to  callousness.  Be 
honest  with   yourself,  and  ask  whether  you  do  really 


6o  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

want  religion  or  not,  for  that  is  the  question  you  must 
first  settle  if  you  would  go  further  and  define  your 
relation  to  the  Christ  of  Gethsemane. 

And,  lastly,  let  me  remind  you  that  if  you  would 
settle  these  solemn  questions,  you  must  dismiss  all 
solicitation  of  comradeship.  They  are  your  questions ; 
you  alone  can  settle  them.  We  cannot  help  following 
in  imagination  this  young  man.  What  became  of  him  ? 
Think  of  all  he  had  seen  and  felt  that  night,  the 
turbulence  and  stress  of  passion  which  had  shaken 
him.  It  is  impossible  for  men  to  forget  such  hours. 
They  make  too  deep  and  indelible  an  impression  on 
their  lives.  The  coward  cannot  forget  that  once  he 
was  almost  heroic,  or  the  cynic  that  he  was  once  almost 
religious.  The  man  who  has  been  as  near  Christ  as 
this  young  man  was,  and  then  forsaken  Him,  must 
bear  the  scar  of  his  treachery,  the  mortifying  memory 
of  his  infirmity  of  purpose,  through  all  his  Hfe.  Can 
you  not  picture  this  youth  as  he  reaches  home  that 
night,  breathless,  sobbing,  unstrung  by  the  vehement 
excitement  he  had  suffered?  What  a  night  for  any 
man  to  pass  through !  How  the  face  of  Christ  would 
haunt  him,  with  its  reproachful  friendliness  and  forlorn 
pathos  of  appeal !  Can  we  not  distinguish  this  youth 
in  the  crowd  around  the  judgment-hall  of  Pilate,  or 
standing  bowed  in  fruitless  shame  in  the  darkness  of 
Calvary,  with  the  loud  dying  cry  of  Jesus  ringing  in 
his  ears  ?  Whatever  future  life  was  his,  of  this  at 
least  we  may  be  pretty  sure  :  that  night  in  Gethsemane 
vrculd  always  stand  out  terribly  clear  and  luminous  as 


ON  IMPULSE  AND   OPPORTUNITY.  6i 

the  one  supreme  event,  the  crowning  moral  opportunity, 
of  his  life.  And  he  lost  it.  He  lost  that  which  never 
could  be  his  again.  For  the  great  lesson  of  moral 
impulse  is  that  it  is  so  quick  to  come  and  go,  that  we 
must  needs  be  alert  to  use  it,  and  dare  not  trifle  with  it. 
"  Kiss  the  Son,  lest  He  be  angry,  and  ye  perish  from  the 
way,"  says  the  Psalmist,  for  all  too  scon  the  Son  passes 
from  our  sight,  and  the  impulse  we  restrained  has  no 
other  opportunity  of  vindication.  And  once  more,  as 
the  torchlight  fades  away,  and  silence  once  again 
possesses  the  garden  where  Jesus  sorrowed,  that 
Divine  voice  comes  to  us  from  the  broadening  distance, 
''Will  ye  also  be  My  disciples?"  "Will  ye  also  go 
away  ?  " 


IV. 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  FACT. 

"Now  when  they  saw  the  boldness  of  Peter  and  John,  and  perceived 
that  they  were  unlearned  and  ignorant  men,  they  marvelled  ;  and 
they  took  knowledge  of  them,  that  they  had  been  with  Jesus.  And 
beholding  the  man  that  was  healed  standing  with  them,  they  could 
say  nothing  against  it." — Acts  iv.  13,  14. 

THE  force  of  this  passage  is  that  it  is  the  testimony 
of  enemies  to  the  effects  of  Christianity,  and 
such  testimony  is  the  most  valuable  form  of  evidence. 
Through  all  the  long  Hne  of  Christian  history  this 
testimony  has  been  repeated.  It  is  hardly  too  much  to 
say  that  it  is  beneath  the  digjnity  of  Christianity  to 
publish  apologetics  or  subtle  arguments  v^hy  it  should 
be  permitted  to  exist ;  it  exists  because  it  must,  because 
it  cannot  help  existing,  and  because  it  is  justified  by 
its  results.  From  the  moment  when  the  darkness 
rolled  away  from  Calvary  an  infinite  light  has  filled 
the  world,  and  it  has  been  daybreak  everywhere.  Men 
have  instinctively  realised  the  presence  of  a  new  force 
in  the  world,  and  they  have  been  forced  to  respect  it. 
Like  light,  it  has  grown  silently ;  but,  like  light,  it  has 
also  been  invincible :  it  has  come  with  a  potent  supre- 
macy, subduing  men  as  the  light  subdues  the  darkness 
when  at  the  break  of  day  it  beats  the  darkness  into 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  63 

flakes  of  crimson  fire  beneath  its  feet.  The  light  asks 
no  leave  of  men  to  shine,  no  permit  of  any  human 
power  to  fill  the  world ;  but  surely  and  pervasively  it 
takes  possession  of  the  waking  earth,  and  defies  dis- 
lodgment  or  defeat.  Its  evidence  is  in  itself.  Its 
right  to  be  is  its  power  to  cleanse  and  bless.  To  the 
blind  man  the  light  does  not  exist,  indeed;  but  the 
blind  man  is  not  a  fit  judge  of  light,  nor  do  we  go  to 
him  to  tell  us  what  the  light  is  like,  or  what  it  makes 
of  the  grey  world  when  its  sudden  splendours  fall  out 
of  the  chambers  of  the  east,  and  all  lands  are  flooded 
with  the  vivifying  radiance.  When  we  want  to  know 
what  the  light  is  like,  we  ask  our  own  eyes  to  tell  us ; 
when  we  want  to  know  what  Christianity  is  like,  Ave 
ask  those  who  have  seen  and  felt  it,  and  who  have 
witnessed  its  work  day  by  day  upon  man  and  human 
society.  And  the  reply  even  of  its  enemies  is,  '*A 
notable  miracle  hath  been  done,  and  we  cannot  deny 
it ; "  we  fear,  we  wonder,  we  hate,  but  we  can  say 
^'nothing  against  it." 

Here,  then,  stand  these  two  simple-minded  men 
against  the  world,  and  challenge  its  utmost  scrutiny. 
Who  they  were  we  know;  what  they  were  we  are 
told  in  the  famous  phrase  that  they  were  '*  unlearned 
and  ignorant  men."  In  birth,  in  station,  in  manners, 
in  intellectual  calibre  and  knowledge,  they  are  not  to 
be  mentioned  in  the  same  breath  as  their  adversaries. 
They  are  men  of  the  commonest  social  type,  men  who 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  things  would  have  lived  and 
died  in  village  industry  and  obscurity.     What  then  is 


THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


there  remarkable  about  them  ?  This  :  that  they  have 
been  the  chosen  companions  of  the  Man  of  Nazareth, 
the  Son  of  God.  They  have  broken  bread  with  the 
visible  God ;  they  have  heard  the  wisdom  of  the 
Eternal,  and  walked  in  daily  intimacy  with  Jesus  Christ. 
And  the  power  of  that  supreme  companionship  has 
told  upon  them.  The  spiritual  force  of  Jesus  Christ 
has  streamed  through  and  through  their  nature,  till  it 
has  changed  them  from  glory  into  glory  ;  and  they  have 
risen  into  a  dignity  of  manhood  strangely  new  and 
glorious.  Do  we  not  know  how  love  can  transfigure 
and  renew  men  still  ?  Have  we  not  watched  the  subtle 
assimilations  of  love  as  it  softens  asperities,  and 
cleanses  the  thoughts,  and  moulds  the  mind,  till  in  those 
who  have  loved  each  other  tenderly  through  long  years 
so  perfect  an  affinity  is  set  up  that  thought  answers 
to  thought,  and  even  feature  to  feature,  and  voice  to 
voice  in  its  sym. pathetic  inflexions  and  reduplications  ? 
This  process,  but  upon  a  Diviner  scale  and  in  a 
completer  method  than  the  world  has  ever  known,  has 
been  accomplished  here.  The  miraculous  force  of  Jesus 
has  not  merely  streamed  through  their  nature,  but  it 
has  left  its  power  upon  them.  They  too  can  work 
miracles  ;  they  too  can  touch  the  sick,  and,  behold,  they 
are  made  whole.  Jesus  is  living  in  them  ;  they  them- 
selves are  temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  agents  of 
the  miraculous  power  of  Christ.  In  earthly  culture 
they  are  ignorant  still ;  in  the  wisdom  of  books  they  are 
still  unlearned  ;  of  the  mere  accomplishments  of  oratory 
they  are  still  d'^stitute,  and  have  the  uncouth  utterance 


THE    TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  6$ 


of  Nazareth,  the  provincial  twang  which  the  polished 
scholars  of  Jerusalem  abhor  and  the  temper  of  scholar- 
ship resents  ;  but  they  walk  clothed  with  moral  dignity, 
and  speak,  as  their  Master  did,  with  authority,  and  not 
as  the  scribes.  The  hmit  of  the  change  is  accurately 
defined  in  them  ;  no  miracle  makes  up  to  them  the 
defects  of  early  education,  but  the  miracle  is  in  the 
transfiguration  of  their  character,  the  enlargement  and 
consummation  of  their  manhood.  What  does  it  all 
mean  ?  How  do  you  explain  it  ?  The  explanation  is 
given  in  the  one  pregnant  sei  tence  that  the  rulers 
"  took  knowledge  of  them  that  they  had  been  with 
Jesus." 

Now  let  us  study  this  group  of  men  a  mom.ent. 
There,  then,  are  the  "  rulers,  and  elders,  and  scribes." 
Their  identification  in  modern  life  is  not  difficult. 
They  are  the  aristocracy  of  their  nation.  They  repre- 
sent, so  to  speak,  both  Houses  of  Parhament  and 
Convocation  thrown  in.  They  stand  for  all  the  political 
power  and  intellectual  culture  of  their  time.  We  can 
see  them  as  they  gather  in  grave  confabulation,  learned 
men,  acute  men,  entirely  respectable  men,  men  of  ligl  t 
and  leading,  naturally  contemptuous  of  the  populace 
and  indifferent  to  its  praise  or  blame.  And  here  also 
stands  this  poor  abject  cripple,  one  of  the  habitual 
beggars  at  the  gate  of  the  Temple,  an  unconsidered 
item  of  humanity,  with  no  claim  to  notice  save  his 
physical  misfortune.  Life  to  him  has  been  one  slow 
tragedy ;  he  has  been  lame  from  his  birth.  We  can 
see  him   also,  excited  and   astonished,  devoured  with 

s 


66  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 


curiosity,  hardly  able  to  believe  that  his  feet  are  his, 
watching  the  scene  with  a  shrewd  eye,  and  eager  to  see 
these  great  men  who  never  gave  him  anything  but  their 
shadows  as  they  passed  in  and  out  of  the  Beautiful 
Gate  of  the  Temple,  discomfited  by  these  two  miracle- 
men  of  Galilee.  And  here  are  the  two  men,  Peter  and 
John,  in  whom  the  real  interest  of  the  scene  is  centred. 
One  of  them  we  know  with  something  like  intimacy. 
We  know  that  Peter  was  a  coward.  No  one  has  yet 
forgotten  the  tale  of  Peter's  boasting  and  the  fact  of 
Peter's  denial.  We  know  that  Peter  was  an  uncouth 
fisherman,  and  we  still  hear  the  servant-girl  in  the  hall 
of  Caiaphas  telling  him  that  his  speech  bewrayeth  him. 
We  know  that  Peter  had  been  bred  up  in  all  natural 
reverence  for  the  priesthood,  and  ought,  according  to 
all  natural  anticipation,  to  have  been  very  humble  in 
the  presence  of  his  betters,  and  doubly  humble  with 
the  memory  of  that  ugly  story  of  his  broken  boast 
clinging  to  him.  But  see,  he  is  nothing  of  the  kind. 
He  stands  up  before  the  elders  of  his  people  with  an 
almost  offensively  aggressive  manliness.  He  speaks 
with  a  majesty  and  fire  of  phrase  worthy  of  a  great 
orator.  He  accuses,  he  reproaches,  he  rebukes,  the 
lords  temporal  and  the  lords  spiritual  of  his  nation.  He 
is  bold  even  to  rashness;  he  is  vehement  even  to  insult. 
And  what  is  more,  no  one  interrupts  him ;  no  one  gain- 
says or  replies  to  him.  He  is  the  uncontested  master 
of  the  situation.  And  as  he  speaks  his  voice  grows 
more  sonorous,  the  strength  of  his  passion  gives  strange 
power  and  vehemence  to  his  words,  till  at  last,  in  one 


THE    TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  67 


great  burst  of  defiant  faith,  he  concludes  thus :  "  This 
is  the  stone  which  was  set  at  nought  of  you  builders, 
which  is  become  the  head  of  the  corner.  Neither  is 
there  salvation  in  any  other :  for  there  is  none  other 
name  under  heaven  given  among  men  whereby  we  must 
be  saved."  The  only  companion  picture  in  history  to 
this  is  that  memorable  moment  when  a  poor  German 
monk,  facet  o  face  with  all  the  imperial  and  ecclesiastical 
power  of  his  time,  and  with  the  fire  of  martyrdom 
almost  lit  beneath  his  feet,  cri.-d  at  last  to  the  Arch- 
duke's splendid  court  and  the  great  company  of  priests 
and  nobles  who  through  the  long  day  of  controversy  had 
tried  alternately  to  argue  or  frighten  him  down :  "  Here 
I  take  my  stand.     God  help  me.     I  cannot  retract  I " 

Here,  then,  is  a  sample  of  what  Christianity  can 
do ;  and  I  submit  it  to  your  judgment.  And  the  first 
thing  I  ask  you  to  notice  is  that  Christ  emancipates 
and  enfranchises  the  intellect.  You  perceive  at  once  that 
the  intellectual  stature  of  these  men  has  been  infinitely 
increased  by  their  comradeship  with  Jesus.  I  need 
not  delay  on  this  point ;  it  needs  neither  argument  nor 
explanatory  rhetoric.  I  state  a  fact,  and  an  incon- 
trovertible fact.  And  I  do  so  for  this  reason:  that 
there  is  a  flippant  and  foolish  assumption  abroad  that 
Christianity,  so  far  from  emancipating  the  intellect, 
enslaves  it.  To  believe— that  is,  to  accept  truth  on  any 
other  evidence  than  the  evidence  of  the  senses  or  the 
reason— is,  I  am  told,  to  put  a  fetter  upon  the  intellect ; 
to  disbelieve  is  to  enter  into  intellectual  enfranchise- 
ment.    Then  when  a  young  man  has  repudiated  the 


68'  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


faith  of  his  fathers  and  classified  his  Bible  among  the 
romance  books  of  history;  when  he  has  joined  the 
noble  company  of  the  doubters  who  are  prouder  of 
their  doubts  than  wise  men  are  of  their  discoveries; 
or  when  he  has  become  an  Agnostic,  who  does  not 
know  and  will  not  even  take  the  trouble  to  doubt ; 
then,  when  the  voice  of  Jesus  Christ  is  silenced,  and 
instead  the  great  babble  of  humi,  i  opinion  is  received 
as  a  sufficing  gospel,  then  come  liberation  and  growth 
of  mind,  then  are  experienced  enlargement  of  faculty 
and  intellectual  new  birth !  That  is  the  assumption 
which  challenges  the  young  men  of  to-day  on  every 
side ;  and,  I  say,  never  was  there  a  more  entire  and 
mischievous  blunder.  Has  the  repudiation  of  Chris- 
tianity ever  led  men  to  wider  intellectual  life  ?  If  those 
who  have  repudiated  Christianity  have  been  great  men, 
is  it  not  in  spite  of  their  infidelity,  and  not  because 
of  it  ?  When  we  have  read  the  record  of  such  lives, 
has  it  not  been  easy  to  perceive  that  the  absence 
of  religious  faith  produced  defect  and  limitation  of 
intellect,  and  not  enlargement  ?  What  is  there  in  the 
wisdom  of  Jesus  Christ  to  stultify  the  most  daring 
mind,  or  repress  the  largest  intellectual  energy  ?  Did 
Christ  fetter  or  emancipate  the  intellect  of  Paul  ?  Did 
He  stifle  or  inspire  the  genius  of  Augustine  ?  Michael 
Angelo  was  no  fool,  and  he  adored  Jesus  Christ. 
Milton  was  no  dullard  when  he  wrote  his  immortal 
epic,  nor  Newton  when  he  threaded  the  maze  of  natural 
law,  nor  Kepler  when  he  swept  the  heavens  with  his 
scrutiny  and  made  a  pathway  for    his  thoughts  amid 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT  69 


the  suns   and  constellations,    nor  Wordsworth  when 
he  sought   the  revelation  of  nature  amid  the  silences 
of  mountain  tarn  and  solitude,  nor  Ruskin  when  he 
touches  with  illuminating  magic  the  world  of  art ;  yet 
all  these,  and  many  others  worthy  to  be  ranked  with 
them,  have  dwelt   or  dwell  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord   Jesus   Christ.      It   is   not  the  faithful,   but   the 
faithless,   who  dwell  in  a  contracted  world,  with  half 
the  intellectual  faculties   dead   or   torpid  for  the   lack 
of  use— it  is  they  who  put  back  the  wheels  of  progress, 
not  they  who  serve  the  world  in  the  name  that  is  above 
every   name.       Do    not  be  deceived  with  the  insolent 
pretensions  of  unbelief.     Pause  before  yoa  believe  its 
promises  of  liberty,  and  recollect  that  the  intolerance 
of  heterodoxy  is  ten  thousandfold  stronger  and  more 
intense   than    the  intolerance  of  orthodoxy.      Do  not 
take  unbelief  at  its  own  price,  nor   accept  its  empty 
boasts  as  historic  certainties.    Think  of  Peter  and  John, 
and  consider  what  Christianity  did   for   them.     Mark 
the  new  and  intense  intellectual  life  of  these  unlearned 
and   ignorant  men.      See   how   they  become   orators, 
authors,  historians,  poets  ;   see  how  vast    an   impulse 
and  enlargement  of  intellect  Christianity  produces    in 
them  ;  and  then  remember  that  Christ  is  on  the  side 
of  the  intellect,    and  not  against   it.     It   is  surely  no 
common  thing  that  fishermen  and  churls  should  sud- 
denly become    the  organisers  of  a   Church,   the  lucid 
exponents  of  a  Divine  and  subtle  system  of  thought  and 
morals,  the  shapers  of  the  world's  future,   and  heroic 
workers  in  the  world's  progress;  and  the  power  that 


TO  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

gave  them  this  infinite  expansion  of  faculty  was  no 
common  power:  it  was  the  power  of  Jesus  Christ 
working  in  them  and  through  them  to  do  His  good 
pleasure. 

And  that  this  should  be  so  is  readily  explained  by 
the  fact  that  nothing  gives  so  deep  an  impulse  to  the 
intellect  as  the  certainty  of  eternal  things.  Tell  me, 
that  I  am  only  a  creature  curiously  fashioned  from  the 
dust,  that  this  world  is  all  I  have,  that  I  am  but  an 
insignificant  life  struck  out  from  the  great  whole,  a 
spark  of  ethereal  fire  falling  back  into  the  night  from 
which  I  came,  a  bead  of  foam  tossed  a  moment  on  the 
sea  of  conscious  being  and  lost  again  in  the  next  roll 
of  the  dubious  wave — tell  me  that,  and  you  rob  me 
of  the  very  instinct  of  intellectual  progress.  What 
impulse  have  I  then  to  expand  powers  which  I  know 
are  doomed  to  speedy  and  complete  annihilation? 
What  is  all  this  laborious  structure  of  civilisation  but 
a  bitter  mockery,  the  playing  of  ants  upon  an  ant-hill, 
which  the  first  heedless  foot  may  kick  away?  Why 
should  I  strain  my  mind  to  know  all  mysteries  and 
speak  all  tongues,  if  all  this  wealth  of  knowledge  and 
experience  is  but  the  accumulation  of  the  miser,  which 
never  can  be  used  in  any  world  beyond  ?  Tell  me  I 
have  no  future  beyond  the  grave,  and  the  very  impulse 
of  intellectual  progress  is  destroyed.  But,  oh,  make  me 
know,  not  by  mere  hearsay  or  the  dull  force  of  argument, 
but  in  myself  and  through  my  own  spirit,  that  there 
is  an  invisible  world  close  at  hand  to  me,  that  what  I 
am  is  but  the  promise  of  what  I  can  be,  that  I  can 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT  71 

Speak  with  that  hidden  world,  that  One  is  there  who 
made  me,  loves  me,  wants  me,  and  is  waiting  for  me, 
and  then  the  horizon  of  my  thought  broadens  into 
infinity.  Then  I  walk  this  little  earth  with  a  new  sense 
of  power,  and  dignity,  and  hope.  Then  I  can  rise 
above  the  maxims  of  the  foolish  and  the  customs  of 
the  cowardly,  and  talk  to  Sanhedrims  boldly,  in  my 
own  natural  rights  as  a  man.  Then  I  am  indeed 
renewed,  emancipated  with  a  glorious  liberty,  for  I 
am  filled  unutterably  full  of  glory  and  of  God.  Yea, 
I  can  even  work  miracles.  My  poor  words  take  force 
and  fire  from  the  power  of  God  which  is  in  me,  and 
are  winged  with  a  mastery  which  is  not  my  own.  I 
can  do  all  things  through  Him  that  strengtheneth  me, 
for  I  am  ennobled  with  that  vision  of  the  world  to 
come ;  and  others  take  knowledge  of  me  that  I  have 
been  with  Jesus.  My  brother,  this  is  no  vain  dream. 
I  speak  the  words  of  truth  and  soberness.  I  point  out 
to  you  plain,  clear,  indisputable  facts.  Again  and  again 
has  Christ  taken  hold  of  illiterate  men,  and  made  them 
kings  of  thought  and  deed,  the  saviours  of  society,  the 
emancipators  of  an  age.  The  power  of  the  world  to 
come  made  John  Bunyan  a  great  writer,  and  John 
Hunt  a  great  missionary.  God  found  the  one  mending 
kettles  and  the  other  driving  the  plough ;  and  the  work 
of  one  lives  in  an  immortal  book,  of  the  other  in  a 
converted  nation.  And  therefore  I  say  you  will  never 
know  what  the  fulness  of  intellectual  life  is  till  the 
mind  that  was  in  Christ  is  the  mind  that  is  in  you. 
You   will   never   even    recognise   the    possibilities    of 


72  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

greatness  which  lie  slumbering  in  your  nature,  waiting 
for  development,  till  you  become  a  new  creature  in 
Christ  Jesus  and  know  Him  whom  to  know  is  life 
eternal. 

But  the  effect  of  contact  with  Christ  is  not  only  in- 
tellectual enfranchisement :  it  is  moral  courage.  It  was 
the  boldness  of  Peter  and  John  which  astonished  every 
one.  There  was  a  gigantic  audacity  about  the  men 
which  positively  staggered  the  grave  and  potent  fathers 
of  the  Sanhedrim.  What,  could  they  believe  their 
ears?  This  man,  this  fellow,  this  rude,  lliterate 
peasant,  rebuking  them !  Why,  all  Jerusalem  knew 
that  but  a  few  weeks  ago  he  had  sneaked  away  like  a 
pitiful  cur  in  the  hour  of  his  Master's  peril ;  and  now 
look  at  him  !  He  plucks  them  by  the  beard,  and  flouts 
them  to  their  face.  He  positively  has  no  respect  what- 
ever for  dignitaries.  He  is  as  uncontrollable  as  a 
whirlwind.  He  smites  right  and  left,  and  has  a  sort 
of  diabolically  inspired  instinct  for  striking  hardest  on 
the  tenderest  places.  What  does  it  mean  ?  What 
are  things  coming  to  ?  And  the  fellow  cannot  even 
speak  decently,  and  has  probably  never  had  a  day's 
education  in  his  life !  You  can  overhear  all  the 
whisper  and  the  babble,  for  the  world  has  often  heard 
it.  And  as  I  look  upon  the  scene  the  lesson  I  learn 
is  that  the  firstfruit  of  Christianity  is  not  meekness, 
but  courage^  not  the  saintlike  spirit  of  gentleness,  but 
the  soldierly  spirit  of  audacity. 

Does  that  sound  a  strange  gospel  ?  If  so,  it  is  be- 
cause you  have  never  read  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles. 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  73 

I  know  very  well  that  the  prevalent  idea  of  Christianity 
is  something  very  different  from  this.  Christianity  is 
supposed  to  be  something  to  make  men  meek  and 
prudent,  to  draw  the  sap  of  manhood,  and  restrain 
the  too  boisterous  energies  of  youth.  You  must  bend 
all  your  energies  to  save  your  own  soul.  You  must 
be  very  careful  not  to  offend  anybody,  for  does  not 
St.  Paul  teach  that  we  should  hve  at  peace  with  all 
men  ?  You  must  be  decorous  to  those  who  disagree 
with  you,  and  be  content  to  politely  differ  with  the 
enemy,  and  must  needs  walk  warily  in  this  present 
evil  world  and  daily  adorn  the  great  doctrine  of 
Christian  non-intervention  !  Yes,  that  is  a  common 
enough  view  of  Christianity  ;  and  its  total  effect  has 
been  to  reduce  Christianity  to  a  matter  of  hymn-singing, 
and  sermon-making,  and  pew-letting !  Behold  the 
magnificent  result :  meekness  translated  into  pliability, 
gentleness  sunk  into  cowardice,  and  prudence  trans- 
formed into  the  most  hideous  selfishness  and  egotism  1 
But  as  I  read  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  a  new  and 
altogether  different  conception  of  Christianity  dawns 
upon  me.  I  find  that  it  was  the  boldness  of  the 
Apostles  which  astonished  everybody.  They  spake 
as  though  joy  did  make  them  speak.  They  faced 
death  with  the  sublime  innocence  of  children  who  had 
never  even  thought  of  it.  They  did  right  with  a  per- 
fectly heroic  self-forgetful ness,  never  asking  for  a 
moment  where  right  would  lead  them.  Elders,  scribes, 
priests,  Sanhedrims,  and  mobs  were  all  one  to  them; 
they  had  a  work  to  do,   and,  like  their  Master,  were 


74  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

Straitened  till  it  was  accomplished.  They  were  swept 
on  by  an  overmastering  impulse ;  they  acted  as  men 
inspired ;  they  manifested  a  superb  fearlessness  which 
filled  even  their  enemies  with  admiration.  What  was 
this  impulse  ?  How  did  they  do  this  ?  The  explana- 
tion is  given  in  the  words  of  one  of  that  immortal 
brotherhood,  who  wrote,  *'The  love  of  Christ  con- 
straineth  me."  "I  count  all  things  but  loss  for  the 
excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord." 
"  For  to  me  to  live  is  Christ ;  and  to  die  is  gain." 

And  moral  courage  is  based  on  two  things  :  first 
the  certainty  of  rights  and  second  carelessness  of  self; 
that  is,  conviction  and  unselfishness.  To  be  right  is 
to  be  strong.  To  be  certain  of  your  facts  is  to  be 
invincible  in  argument.  To  know  that  Jesus  Christ 
has  risen  from  the  dead  because  we  have  felt  the 
risen  presence  with  us,  and  to  feel  hourly  the  life  of 
that  Christ  who  is  born  again  in  the  heart,  thrilling 
and  throbbing  through  every  thought  and  act  of  life — 
that  is  the  secret  of  Christian  boldness.  Who  cares 
for  man  then  ?  Does  not  the  voice  of  Jesus  reach  us  : 
"  Fear  not  them  that  kill  the  body,  and  after  that  have 
no  more  that  they  can  do  "  ?  Who  fears  the  enmity 
of  the  world  ?  Does  not  He  say,  "  Be  of  good  cheer  ; 
I  have  overcome  the  world "  ?  Who  walks  in  the 
terror  of  death  then  ?  Death  is  for  us  extinct,  anni- 
hilated, deposed ;  and  we  say,  with  Richard  Baxter, — 

"  If  life  be  long,  I  will  be  glad 
That  I  may  still  obey ; 
If  short,  yet  why  should  I  be  sad 
To  soar  to  endless  day?" 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  75 

And  not  fearing  death,  the  fear  of  lesser  evils  is  re- 
moved ;  a  sublime  carelessness  about  self  is  ours. 
The  praise  or  blame  of  men  is  nothing  to  us.  Wealth 
has  no  lure,  pleasure  no  bribe,  ease  no  paradise,  poverty 
no  terror.  And  again  I  say  this  is  not  rhapsody,  but 
historic  fact.  This  is  the  temper  which  Christianity 
has  produced  in  the  lives  of  tens  of  thousands,  who 
lived  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister.  Ob, 
when  shall  we  all  share  it?  When  shall  we  shake 
ourselves  free  of  the  fear  of  each  other,  and  dare  to 
be  fools  for  Christ's  sake,  that  His  wisdom  may  be 
revealed  in  us  ?  When  shall  we  dare  to  do  what  He 
did — make  ourselves  of  ^^  no  reputation  " — be  outcast 
from  men,  that  we  may  be  found  in  Him?  When 
will  that  boldness  of  rebuke  which  characterised  Christ 
characterise  us,  in  the  face  of  the  lies,  and  tyrannies, 
and  evils,  and  impurities  of  our  day  ?  Oh,  when  shall 
we  cease  to  be  cowards,  and  rise  into  the  boldness  of  the 
first  Christians?  And  the  answer  is.  When  we  live  with 
Christ  as  they  did ;  and  then,  when  Christ  is  all  and  in 
all,  and  our  words  become  the  just  reflection  of  our  lives, 
and  our  life  is  hid  with  Christ  in  God,  then,  and  not 
before,  will  others  wonder  at  our  moral  boldness,  and 
take  knowledge  of  us  that  we  have  been  with  Jesus. 

The  last  thing  to  be  noticed  is,  then,  that  Christianity 
bases  itself  u^on  concrete  fact  "  And  beholding  the  man 
that  was  healed  standing  with  them,  they  could  say 
nothing  against  it."  There  is  the  triumphant  and  in- 
controvertible evidence — the  man  healed.  Internal  and 
external  evidence,  arguments  a  priori  and  arguments 


76  THE   THRESHOLD   Ot  MANHOOD. 

a  posteriori^  subtle  deductions  for  the  historic  authenti- 
city of  Christianity  drawn  from  idiom  and  mannerism, 
pleas,  treatises,  systems,  apologetics — let  them  all  go; 
here  is  the  supreme  evidence  :  ^'  And  beholding  the  man 
who  was  healed  standing  with  them/'  Christianity  does 
not  arrest  your  attention  as  a  system  of  thought,  but  as 
a  fact ;  not  as  a  philosophy,  but  as  a  life.  It  addresses 
itself  to  the  common-sense  of  mankind.  It  holds  no 
traffic  in  intellectual  casuistries,  which  are  the  riddles 
of  the  learned  ;  it  puts  its  proof  so  plainly  that  the  way- 
faring man,  though  a  fool,  cannot  err  therein.  There  are 
more  fools  than  wise  men  in  the  world,  and  Christian- 
ity takes  count  of  the  fools.  For  one  who  can  follow 
a  profound  argument,  there  are  a  million  incapable 
of  sustained  thought ;  and  Christianity  addresses  itself 
to  the  incapauities  of  the  common  people.  Common 
people  have  a  healthy  hunger  for  facts;  and  for  that 
mat  er,  even  learned  people  have  a  wholesome  respect 
for  them.  Fact  is  indeed  the  highest  argument.  It 
is  the  invincible  granite  on  which  the  wave  of  in- 
tellectual subtlety  is  always  broken.  It  cannot  be  put 
dovvn,  or  got  rid  of,  or  ignored.  When  you  have  quite 
done  your  profound  harangue,  it  says,  ''  I  am  still  here. 
You  have  not  explained  me.  Please  to  reckon  with 
me,  for  you  have  got  to  do  so  sooner  or  later."  You 
want  fact,  then,  do  you  ?  You  ask,  not  for  sermons, 
but  for  facts,  do  you  ?  You  shall  have  them.  Here 
is  a  fact  which  has  been  standing  in  the  world's  high- 
way this  eighteen  hundred  years,  and  no  one  has  yet 
been  able  to  get  rid  of  it :  *'  And  beholding  the  man 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT,  77 

who  w^s  healed  standing  with  them."  It  was  no  hal- 
lucination. It  could  not  be  got  rid  of  by  rubbing  the 
eyes  and  trying  a  fresh  argument.  Here  was  a  man 
who  yesterday  could  not  walk,  who  had  never  walked 
in  his  life,  and  here  he  stood  whole,  firm-footed,  virile, 
able  to  walk  or  race  with  the  strongest  of  them.  Peter 
might  be  insolent,  but  the  man  was  healed,  and  that 
was  enough  to  give  vehemence  to  a  less  turbulent 
tongue  than  Peter's.  Christianity  may  be  exploded  by 
a  hundred  treatises,  and  indeed  its  total  overthrow  has 
been  so  often  announced  that  we  have  ceased  to  be 
troubled  by  the  news  ;  but  here  is  the  fact,  men  are 
healed,  millions  of  them,  and  are  being  healed  every 
day.  What  have  you  to  say  to  that?  When  the 
Sanhedrim  looked  upon  that  very  lively  and  obvious 
fact  of  the  healed  cripple,  they  did  the  only  thing 
sensible  men  could  do :  they  admitted  they  could  say 
nothing  against  it. 

And  it  is  on  that  fact  I  take  my  stand.  Will  the 
eyes  of  some  youth  who  is  already  half  atheist  and 
altogether  infidel  read  these  pages  ?  I  hope  they  may. 
You  repudiate  Christianity  because  it  presents  serious 
difficulties  to  a  philosophic  mind.  The  iron  system 
of  necessitarianism  which  you  have  built  up  is  logically 
consistent  and  complete.  It  may  seem  to  you  right 
that  the  world  should  be  emancipated  from  the  follies 
of  supernaturalism  and  the  credulities  of  creeds.  You 
may  even  believe  that  you  would  confer  an  inestimable 
benefit  upon  mankind  in  destroying  its  faith  in  Jesus. 
Shelley  thought  so  once;  Renan  thinks  so  to-day:  I  will 


78  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

take  it  for  granted  that  you  honestly  think  so  too. 
But  now  can  you  tell  me  what  actual  benefit  atheism 
has  yet  conferred  upon  mankind,  or  on  yourself?  Has 
atheism  proved  itself  beneficent  or  philanthropic  ? 
Has  it  given  men  the  victory  over  selfishness  ?  Plas 
it  wiped  away  the  tears  of  the  mourner,  or  comforted 
the  bruised  heart  of  the  orphan,  or  given  crushed  and 
struggling  men  a  new  impulse  to  heroic  endeavour  ? 
Has  it  ever  yet  built  an  orphanage,  an  almshouse,  a 
refuge  for  the  outcast  ?  Can  it  show  me  the  man  that 
it  has  healed  ?  I  have  never  heard  of  him.  I  have 
heard  of  the  men  it  has  destroyed,  but  never  of  the 
men  whom  it  has  healed.  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
seen  an  infidel  orphanage,  an  iconoclasts'  hospital, 
or  even  an  almshouse  for  atheist  widows.  You  can 
destroy,  but  you  cannot  construct.  You  can  slay,  but 
you  cannot  make  alive.  You  can  deform  and  defile, 
and  make  a  man's  life  so  bitter  to  him  that  suicide 
wears  a  new  enchantment ;  but  you  cannot  heal.  I 
show  you  the  men  whom  Christianity  has  healed.  I 
show  you  the  drunkard  who  is  sober,  the  hopeless  who 
have  learned  to  look  up  again  and  become  victors,  the 
profligates  who  have  received  a  new  impulse  of  purity 
which  has  lifted  them  into  newness  of  life,  the  children 
of  darkness  who  have  become  the  children  of  the  light. 
Can  you  say  anything  against  it  ? 

Or  does  the  Socialist  read  these  words  ?  You  too 
have  honest  aims.  You  are  filled  with  the  spirit  of 
righteous  indignation  against  the  artificial  inequalities 
of  life  and  man's  inhumanity  to  man.     In  so  far  I 


THE   TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  79 

agree  with  you.  But  you  preach  the  gospel  of  spolia- 
tion, the  crusade  of  universal  anarchy,  as  the  prelude 
to  the  age  of  universal  happiness ;  and  in  that  I  dis- 
agree M^ith  you.  You  had  your  chance  just  a  hundred 
years  ago  in  France ;  did  you  heal  mankind  with  that 
fiery  medicine  of  class-hatred  and  revenge  ?  Is  the 
man  who  was  healed  found  in  France  to-day?  Did 
that  tremendous  cautery  of  revolution  after  all  extir- 
pate the  disease  it  aimed  to  cure  ?  I  point  you  to  the 
one  true  Socialist,  Jesus  Christ  of  Nazareth.  Take 
His  teachings  as  the  code  of  individual  conduct, 
and  you  will  soon  find  the  world  leavened  with  a 
new  spirit.  Every  force  that  to-day  purifies  and 
sweetens  the  life  of  nations  is  the  direct  fruit  of  His 
influence  in  the  world.  Wherever  Christianity  has 
been  honestly  applied,  there  the  working  socialism  of 
love  and  charity  has  been  set  up ;  and  the  difference 
between  us  is  simply  this :  what  you  seek  in  vain  to 
do  by  force,  Jesus  Christ  accomplishes  by  kindness. 
Can  you  say  anything  against  it  ? 

And,  lastly,  I  turn,  in  like  manner,  to  the  numerous 
modern  Sanhedrims  of  philosophers  and  pedants,  states- 
men who  construct  ideal  republics,  writers  who  are 
eloquent  for  untried  remedies.  Church  dignitaries  who 
have  lost  the  spirit  of  Christ  in  the  pomp  and  comfort 
of  the  world's  rewards.  Spin  the  bright  weft  of  your 
philosophic  doubts,  construct  your  ideal  society — on 
paper,  pour  out  your  volumes  of  learned  speculation 
and  poetic  foreshadowings  of  the  ideal  future,  but  is 
the  man  who  is  healed  standing  in  your  midst  ?     Have 


9q  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

you  ever  really  helped  any  human  spirit  to  a  nobler 
style  of  living  ?  Call  your  congresses,  good  Churchmen, 
if  you  will ;  appear  in  all  the  pomp  of  ecclesiastical 
state :  but  is  the  man  healed  in  the  midst  ?  It  is  to 
that  test  all  our  schemes  of  human  regeneration  must 
eome.  And  as  I  ask  the  question  old  scenes  seem  to 
kindle  into  life  before  me.  I  see  John  Bunyan  dragged 
before  your  fathers,  and  sent  home  to  prison  for 
preaching  the  Gospel.  I  see  John  Wesley  reviled  or 
ignored  by  your  elders  in  the  hour  when  he  was  saving 
England  frcm  the  curse  your  lethargy  had  brought 
upon  her.  I  see  poor  Salvation  Army  captains  brought 
before  you  to-day,  much  as  the  Galilean  fishermen 
were  brought  before  your  relatives  a  long  time  ago  in 
Jerusalem,  to  be  handed  round,  and  discussed,  and 
criticised  with  envious  magnanimity  or  wondering  con- 
tempt. Well,  Bunyan,  and  Wesley,  and  the  Salvation 
Army  can  at  least  give  a  good  account  of  the  notable 
miracle  which  has  been  wrought  through  them  in  the 
healing  of  multitudes.  You  can  say  nothing  against  it, 
for  the  facts  are  with  them.  Wherever  Christ  is,  there 
the  old  miracle  of  salvation  is  still  wrought.  And 
therefore  I  hail  any  man,  any  Church,  any  system,  any 
institution,  that  can  show  me  the  man  healed  with  them. 
I  care  not  how  it  may  shock  my  prejudices,  how  it  may 
insult  my  dignified  preconceptions ;  if  men  are  saved, 
Christ  is  there.  That  is  the  one  infallible  token  of  His 
presence.  That  is  the  one  unalterable  sign  of  the  true 
Church,  for  there  is  '^none  other  name  under  heaven 
given  among  men  whereby  we  must  be  saved" 


THE    TESTIMONY  OF  FACT.  8i 

The  cripple  still  lies  in  the  Beautiful  Gate  of  the 
Temple,  and  the  problem  we  have  to  solve  to-day  is 
how  he  is  to  be  healed.  It  is  the  problem  of  statesman- 
ship not  less  than  of  the  Church.  Sabbath  by  Sabbath, 
as  we  come  up  to  the  ordered  and  decorous  worship  of 
the  Church,  there  in  our  very  pathway  lies  the  loath- 
some and  leprous  form  of  the  unhealed  sorrow  and 
misery  of  the  world.  The  dumb  beggar  at  the  gate 
rebukes  us  for  our  pride,  and  pierces  our  comfortable 
formality  with  the  poignant  glance  of  his  appeal.  He 
is  the  living,  shuddering,  breathing  agony  of  the  world 
laid  at  our  gate ;  the  sorrows  of  centuries  look  out  from 
his  dim  eyes,  and  are  written  on  his  wasted  cheeks. 
And  we  are  told  to-day  that,  whatever  power  there  was 
once  in  Christianity  to  heal  this  disfigured  form,  that 
force  is  now  exhausted,  and  the  time  has  come  to 
formulate  a  religion  of  humanity  which  shall  supersede 
the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  Do  you  remember 
Tennyson's  poem  "  In  the  Children's  Hospital "  ?  A 
little  child  lies  white  and  patient  waiting  for  the 
surgeon's  knife,  and  prays  to  Jesus  to  help  her  bear 
the  unknown  pain.  But  the  surgeon  smiles  with  grim 
scepticism  at  her  prayer ;  and  the  nurse  who  tells  the 
story  says, — 

"Then  he  muttered  half  to  himself;  but  I  know  that  I  heard  him  say, 
'  All  very  well,  but  the  good  Lord  Jesus  has  had  His  day.' 
Had  ?  Has  it  come  ?  It  has  only  dawned.  It  will  come  by-and-bye. 
Oh,  how  could  I  serve  in  the  wards  if  the  hope  of  the  world  was  a  lie  ? 
How  could  I  bear  with  the  sights  and  the  loathsome  smells  of  disease 
But  that  He  said,  '  Ye  do  it  to  Me  when  ye  do  it  to  these  '  ?  " 

That  puts  the  whole  contention  in  a  nutshell.     If  the 

6 


83  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 

good  Lord  Jesus  has  had  His  day,  then  farewell  to  the 
charities  and  sacrifices  which  have  made  life  easier  to 
millions !  The  truest  love  of  humanity  is  kindled  at 
the  Cross.  It  is  all  very  well  to  argue  on  paper  that 
the  moral  effects  of  Christianity  can  go  on  without  any 
necessary  belief  in  Christ,  but  the  fact  remains  that 
when  Christ  passes  out  of  Christianity,  Christianity  is 
gone.  It  was  in  His  name  and  by  His  power  alone 
that  the  Apostles  spoke  healing  to  this  man.  In  the 
living  love  of  Christ  alone  is  there  the  force  that  can 
arm  men  to  be  the  true  servants  of  humanity.  In  this 
at  least  the  ages  have  altered  nothing.  And  this  day 
of  His  perfect  victory  has  not  yet  come.  But  slowly 
as  we  pray  and  toil  there  rises  on  the  eyes  of  the 
spirit  the  vision  that  aged  poet  saw,  when  he  sat 
down  at  the  end  of  a  long  life  to  write  his  last  poem  in 
the  solemn  shadows  of  approaching  death.  It  was  a 
noble  farewell  to  the  world  ;  it  is  a  noble  creed  for 
those  also  who  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  its 
struggle : — 

*',Out  of  the  shadow  of  night 
The  world  rolls  into  light; 
It  is  daybreak  everywhere," 


V. 

WHAT  IT  IS  THAT  ENDURES, 

<•  For  all  that  is  in  the  world,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of 
the  eyes,  and  the  pride  of  life,  is  not  of  the  P'atber,  but  is  of  the 
world.  And  the  world  passeth  awaj',  and  the  lust  thereof :  but  he 
that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  for  ever." — I  John  ii.  i6,  17. 

ANY  one  who  reads  the  Epistles  must  be  struck  with 
the  constant  recurrence  of  such  phrases  as  "the 
world,"  *'  this  world,"  occasionally  "  this  evil  world." 
In  what  sense  is  the  word  used  ?  Do  the  Apostles 
speak  of  "  the  world  "  in  our  use  of  the  term,  as  the 
physical  universe,  with  its  glorious  vesture  of  living 
bloom  and  beauty,  or  is  "  this  world  "  put  in  contrast 
with  the  other  worlds  of  the  stellar  universe  with  which 
astronomy  has  made  us  familiar  ?  We  know  that  the 
latter  supposition  is  impossible,  for  the  veil  of  mystery 
which  covers  the  firmament  was  not  removed  for  the 
eyes  of  John  and  Paul ;  and  of  that  star-sown  heaven, 
with  its  rings  of  light  and  array  of  planets  moving  in 
their  ordered  courses,  they  knew  nothing.  We  know 
that  the  other  interpretation  of  the  phrase  would  be 
almost  as  unfamiliar  to  them,  for  it  is  a  curious  thing 
to  note  that  not  once  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  not 
once  in  the  familiar  diaries  and  letters  of  the  Apostles, 


THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


is  there  a  solitary  reference  to  what  we  know  as 
natural  beauty.  The  Apostles  travelled  through  the 
noblest  scenery  of  Europe,  but  there  is  not  a  single 
phrase  which  has  reached  us  which  might  lead  us  to 
suppose  that  they  felt  its  inspiration  or  were  impressed 
with  its  charm  and  glory.  It  is  quite  admissible, 
indeed,  to  suppose  that  when  they  spoke  of  the  world 
passing  away  they  did  include  the  physical  universe, 
which  to  them  was  an  unsubstantial  pagf^rint.  They 
believed  and  taught  that,  firm  and  stable  as  the  globe 
looked,  yet  it  was  a  mere  bright  illusion,  and  would 
vanish  in  a  moment  when  the  elements  melted  with 
fervent  heat.  But  in  their  common  use  of  the  phrase 
"  the  world  "  this  is  scarcely  included.  In  their  mouths 
the  word  acquired  a  new  and  original  significance. 
What  was  that  significance  ?  The  Apostle  tells  you 
in  these  phrases  which  are  my  text. 

"The  world"  to  John  meant  the  great  fabric  of 
human  civilisation,  the  pomp  and  splendour,  the  glory 
and  desire,  the  lust  and  ambition,  of  that  creature 
called  man  who  was  its  lord  and  master.  It  was  man 
who  gave  significance  to  the  world.  It  was  man  who 
was  vastly  more  than  the  globe  he  lived  upon.  And  to 
John  that  globe  was  a  place  of  infinite  trial  and  tempta- 
tion, and  its  supreme  temptation  was  to  blind  men  by 
its  shows  and  splendours  to  the  spiritual  significance 
of  life.  It  was  the  Vanity  Fair,  where  the  pilgrims  of 
eternity  forgot  their  noblest  purposes  and  were  allured 
from  their  Divine  quest.  Its  gaiety  and  glory,  its 
glittering  baubles  and  visions  of  beauty,  bewitched  the 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  85 

sense  and  made  man  forget  the  greatness  of  his  origin 
and  the  greatness  of  his  destiny ;  in  its  booths  of 
pleasure  and  chambers  of  delight,  its  novelty  and  fasci- 
nation, and  airy  laughter,  men  were  allured  to  destruc- 
tion and  forgot  that  they  were  pilgrims  and  sojourners 
as  all  their  fathers  were.  And  what,  after  all,  was  the 
world  but  a  mere  series  of  shows  and  vanities,  like 
a  village  fair,  all  alive  at  night  with  light  and  music, 
and  in  the  morning  nothing  left  but  the  trodden  grass 
and  a  broken  pole  or  two  to  mark  where  it  had  been. 
It  was  passing  away  like  a  stage  picture  upon  which 
the  curtain  would  soon  fall.  It  would  pass,  and  "  leave 
not  a  wrack  behind ;  "  but  he  that  did  the  will  of  God, 
he  that  pushed  on  in  his  quest  towards  the  house  of 
God  beyond,  would  abide  for  ever. 

One  can  readily  construct  a  very  noble  picture  of  the 
influence  which  these  thoughts  had  upon  the  lives  of 
the  Apostles.  One  can  follow  Paul  or  John  as  they 
pass  on  their  many  pilgrimages,  with  their  faces  lighted 
with  this  rapt  and  silent  flame  and  their  hearts  full  of 
this  great  and  simple  thought.  We  see  them  enter 
great  cities — cities  like  Athens,  and  Ephesus,  and 
Corinth.  There,  on  every  side,  rise  vast  temples, 
theatres,  academies.  There  the  chariots,  with  silver 
axles,  go  flashing  down  the  streets  ;  and  the  soldiers, 
with  glittering  banners,  are  massed  in  mimic  war  ;  and 
the  air  is  everywhere  perfumed  with  pleasure,  and 
alive  with  the  quick,  eager,  throbbing  vitality  of  a  great 
and  sensuous  people.  We  follow  these  men  as  they 
walk  in  their  tattered  raiment  among  the  happy  throngs, 


86  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

and  we  notice  that  that  still  flame  upon  their  faces 
seems  to  burn  brighter  as  they  go.  The  flower-decked 
throngs,  the  crowded  theatre,  the  music  of  the  viol  and 
lute — the  spectacle  of  all  that  various,  busy,  brilliant  life, 
seems  to  have  no  fascination  for  them.  They  pass  on 
to  the  city's  poorest  quarter,  and  there,  entering  some 
low  doorway,  they  look  upon  a  very  different  scene. 
And  what  is  that?  It  is  a  little  group  of  simple, 
humble,  hard-working  men  and  women  who  have 
come  together  to  learn  the  lessons  of  the  Crucified. 
But  on  their  faces,  too,  there  burns  this  same  flame, 
and  their  faces  are  marked  by  this  sam.e  upward  wist- 
fulness,  for  these  men  are  united  by  a  common  thought 
and  are  animated  by  a  common  purpose.  And  what  is 
that  ?  The  thought  is  this  :  that,  after  all,  that  great 
world  outside  is  passing  away.  Time,  the  great  scene- 
shifter,  already  touches  it ;  and  soon  silence  will  have 
fallen  on  theatre  and  stadium,  and  it  will  have  vanished 
like  a  dream.  But  this  little  group  of  men  have  dis- 
covered something  which  will  never  fade  or  wither; 
they  have  found  the  great  secret  after  which  the  East 
had  always  yearned,  the  futile  dream  of  science  and  of 
philosophy  for  ages.  They  have  found  immortal  life. 
Ephesus  will  pass  ;  Corinth  will  be  sown  with  dust ;  the 
chariot-wheels  of  time  will  roll  over  all  these  great 
cities  of  Asia  Minor,  and  level  and  obliterate  them  so 
that  one  stone  will  not  be  left  upon  another.  The 
great  world  itself  ^ill  be  rolled  up  like  a  garment,  and 
put  away  like  a  worn-out  vesture.  But  these  men  and 
won^en   will  stand  unhurt  amid  the  wreck  of  empire. 


WHAT  IT  IS  THAT  ENDURES.  87 

and  stand  victorious  over  time  and  death.  They  are 
heirs  of  God  and  joint-heirs  with  Christ.  '*  The  world 
passeth  away,  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abides 
for  ever." 

Now,  let  us  ask,  was  this  the  mere  morbid  dream 
of  an  ascetic,  or  was  it  true  ?  And  if  it  be  true,  in 
what  way  is  it  true  ?  What  is  it  that  is  passing 
away  ?  What  is  it  that  abides  ?  Why  does  it  abide  ? 
Let  us  try  for  a  few  moments  to  answer  these  ques- 
tions. 

"  The  world."  "  This  world."  By  implication,  then, 
there  is  another  world.  I  need  not  dwell  long  upon 
that  primary  fact.  I  only  dwell  upon  it  that  I  may  say 
this  much  :  that  if  there  are  any  people  who  more 
than  others  are  apt  to  forget  the  existence  of  another 
and  a  spiritual  world,  unseen,  but  real  and  close  to 
them  day  and  night,  it  is  the  people  who  live  in  cities. 
The  very  housetops  shut  out  the  visible  heavens  from 
view.  The  contiguity  of  human  life  seems  to  lessen 
the  sense  of  Divine  mystery.  Men  who  spend  many 
solitary  hours  with  nature — men  whose  calling  is  in 
the  great  waters  or  the  open  fields — cannot  help  feeling 
something  of  the  ghostly  side  of  nature.  For  them 
there  are  presences  on  the  solitary  hills ;  there  are 
voices  in  the  wind  ;  and  there  is  the  sense  of  unseen 
life  touching  them  on  all  sides,  to  which  the  imagination 
is  sensitive  and  coni^ious.  But  when  men  come  to 
live  in  cities,  they  are  like  little  children  who  crowd 
round  the  bright  fire  in  a  little  room,  and  do  their  best 
to  forget  the  illimitable  mystery  of  the  wide  night  that 


88  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

reigns  without.  There  is  no  solitude  ;  there  is  no  time 
for  silent  communing ;  there  is  no  chance  for  nature  to 
find  us.  The  veil  between  us  and  the  angel-world 
seemed  very  thin  in  the  days  when  the  rushing  of  the 
wind  over  the  wide  moor  at  night  seemed  like  the 
passing  of  many  wings,  and  when  the  shimmering  of 
the  moonlight  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees  was  like  the 
white  gliding  of  heavenly  presences.  But  here  it  is  a 
thick  and  stifling  curtain,  and  the  sense  of  wonder 
slowly  perishes  within  us.  We  have  no  sense  that 
we  are  passing  away.  We  are  like  men  on  board  ship 
who  fulfil  their  duty  hour  after  hour  as  though  they 
were  upon  the  land,  and  forget  that  every  moment  the 
screw  turns  and  the  wake  of  foam  flies  behind,  and 
league  after  league  of  wave  is  passed  \  and  busy  as 
they  are,  still  they  are  being  borne  on  unconsciously 
beneath  the  wind-swept  vault  of  heaven  to  the  distant 
harbour.  Everything  with  us  seems  so  fixed  and  so 
stable — the  bank,  the  'change,  the  office,  the  order  and 
routine  of  life  and  duty — that  the  natural  instinct 
of  another  world,  real  and  near,  gradually  decays,  and 
we  are  apt  to  become  men  of  this  world,  who  have 
their  portion  in  this  life. 

But  John  specifies  in  these  phrases  precisely  what  he 
means  when  he  says  that  the  world  is  passing  away. 
First  of  all,  he  says  that  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh  '*  passes 
away.  By  that  I  understand  the  animal  needs  and 
appetites,  the  physical  strength  and  vigour.  If  you 
take  it  in  the  narrowest  sense,  how  true  it  is.  "  Lust, 
when  it  has  conceived,  bringeth  forth  death."     Lust 


WHAT  IT  IS   Til  AT  LXDURES.  89 


Stings  itself  to  death.  There  is  a  period  in  life  when 
the  desires  of  the  flesh  exercise  immeise  influence  and 
subtle  power  over  the  imagination.  They  seem  to 
promise  illimitable  delight  and  inexhaustible  pVasure. 
They  sting  the  flesh  with  their  violence,  and  send  the 
blood  boiling  through  the  veins  like  a  tide  of  fire. 
The  imagination  runs  through  the  world  and  sees 
everywhere  alluring  forms  which  point  to  intoxicating 
joys.  That  is  not  an  unusual  experience.  It  is 
common  to  all  of  us  in  the  heyday  of  youth  and 
strength;  and  I  only  allude  to  it  to  ask  this  ques- 
tion: Have  you  considered  that  this  is  passing  away? 
Do  you  know  that  the  gamut  of  appetite  and  passion 
is  very  limited  after  all  ?  You  can  soon  reach 
up  and  strike  the  topmost  note,  and  downward  and 
strike  the  lowest.  Do  you  know  that  these  violent 
delights  have  violent  ends  ?  They  are  soon  exhausted, 
and  the  hungry  passion  is  satiated,  and  the  promise 
which  it  made  is  found  a  cheat.  It  is  so.  It  is  so  if 
for  no  other  reason  than  this :  because  physical  Hfe 
itself  fails.  Youth  is  soon  gone ;  manhood  is  soon 
passed  ;  old  age  is  soon  reached.  You  are  not  what 
you  were.  Already  the  keen  edge  and  zest  of  earthly 
appetite  is  blunted.  You  disHke,  perhaps,  to  admit  it ; 
and  yet  you  know  in  your  hearts  that  the  best  cup  of 
wine  which  life  has  to  give  you  is  already  drunk,  and 
that  life  will  never  prepare  again  for  you  the  like. 
You  say,  perhaps,  as  Shelley  said — and  some  of  you 
say  it  at  the  age  at  which  Shelley  said  it :  you  say  it  at 
thirty ;  you  say  it  with  a  heart  embittered ;  you  say 


90  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

it  with  a  life  shattered ;  you  say  it  standing  amid 
ruined  hopes — 

«  O  world,  O  life,  O  time, 
On  whose  last  str ps  I  climb, 

Trembling  at  that  where  I  stood  firm  before, 
When  shall  return  the  glory  of  my  prime? 
No  more,  ah  nevermore  ! 

"Out  of  the  day  and  the  night 
A  joy  has  taken  flight  ; 
Fresh  spring,  summer,  and  winter  hoar 
Shall  fill  my  heart  with  grief. 
But  with  delight 

No  more,  ah  nevermore  1 " 

In  other  words,  the  lust  of  the  flesh  is  passing  away. 
Your  desires,  and  passions,  and  appetites  are  already 
weakened  by  drudgery,  by  sickness,  by  use,  by  years ; 
and  they  smoulder  like  a  fire  which  is  almost  spent. 
You  fan  it  for  a  moment  into  feverish  activity,  but  that 
is  all.  The  flame  spurts  up  to  die  down  again  into 
deeper  darkness. 

Have  you  lived,  then,  for  the  lust  of  the  flesh  ?  Are 
you,  young  man,  living  for  the  lust  of  the  flesh  ?  Are 
the  chief  uses  and  joys  of  your  life  mere  animal  uses 
and  jo3^s  ?  Then  you  will  soon  be  bankrupt.  They 
are  passing  away ;  and  you  will  soon  realise  the  bitter 
epigram,  "  Youth  is  folly ;  manhood  is  struggle ;  old 
age  is  regret." 

Then,  again,  John  uses  another  phrase  :  "  the  lust 
of  the  eyes."  The  eye  is  the  portal  of  innumerable 
delights.  It  is  *'the  meeting-place  of  many  worlds." 
Through  it  there  stream  in  upon  the  mind  the  vision 
of  beauty,  the   revelation   of  science,   the   pomp   and 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  91 

pageantry  of  earthly  power,  all  the  bright,  shifting 
splendour  of  human  glory.  Have  you  ever  considered 
that  riches  appeal  mainly  to  the  eye  ?  It  is  the  eye 
which  interprets  to  a  man  the  stateliness  of  the  house 
which  he  has  built,  the  beauty  of  the  gardens  which  he 
has  laid  out,  the  picture's  charm,  the  statue's  grace, 
the  horse's  symmetry — in  a  word,  all  those  costly 
embellishments  with  which  wealth  can  adorn  life.  To 
the  blind  man  they  are  nothing.  To  be  blind  is  to  lose 
almost  everything  that  riches  can  bestow.  Yet,  says 
John,  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  too,  is  a  fading  passion 
which  is  soon  satiated.  The  first  house  a  man  buys 
looks  better  and  bigger  to  him  than  any  house  he  owns 
afterwards.  The  first  picture  a  man  owns  brings  him 
more  genuine  pleasure  than  all  the  others  put  together. 
And,  after  all,  a  man  can  only  sleep  in  one  bed  at  a 
time,  and  can  only  live  in  one  house  at  a  time  ;  and 
that  lust  of  the  eye  which  desires  to  add  house  to 
house  and  land  to  land  has  a  lessening  pleasure  in 
its  acquisitions.  Like  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  after  all 
it  is  a  life  of  sensation  ;  and  all  sensation  is  limited 
and  soon  exhausted.  You,  perhaps,  have  set  your 
hope  in  some  such  direction  as  this.  You  desire 
to  be  rich  ;  your  eye  lusts  for  the  luxurious  abodes 
of  wealth  and  the  circumstance  and  state  of  social 
greatness.  When  the  lust  of  the  flesh  fails,  the  lust 
of  the  eye  often  develops ;  and  the  man  who  has  lost 
the  one  frantically  tries  to  recoup  himself  by  flying  to 
the  other.  But  it  is  vain.  The  miseries  of  the  idle 
rich,  their  enmity  their  listlessness,  their  discontent,  their 


92  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 


imbecile  thirst  for  new  sensations,  their  perpetual 
invention  of  new  and  artificial  joys,  remind  us  how 
true  are  the  words  of  John  that  the  lust  of  the  eyes, 
too,  passes  away. 

And  the  third  aspect  of  the  world  John  characterises 
as  **  the  pride  of  life."  That  may  signify  either  the 
pride  of  power  or  the  pride  of  knowledge.  Take  it,  for 
instance,  as  the  pride  of  power.  Take  it  in  regard  to 
that  great  and  splendid  empire  with  which  the  Apostles 
were  famihar.  It  seemed  built  to  last  for  ever.  It  was 
just ;  it  was  powerful ;  it  was  imposing.  To  be  a 
Roman  was  to  be  armed  with  an  invincible  defence.  It 
was  a  proud  boast  which  clothed  the  meanest  man  with 
dignity.  The  tramp  of  the  legions  of  Rome  echoed  in 
every  city ;  the  silver  eagles  were  borne  in  triumph 
through  all  the  world  ;  its  laws  had  imposed  civilisation 
upon  the  most  barbarous  peoples  ;  and  its  power  had 
crushed  nation  after  nation  Hke  green  withs  in  the  hand 
of  a  giant.  There  was  no  sign  in  John's  day  of  any 
overthrow.  Its  colossal  fabric  rose  without  seam  or 
fissure,  and  it  seemed  as  stable  as  the  everlasting  hills. 
Yet  this  solitary  man  told  the  truth  when  he  said,  not 
merely  that  it  would  pass  away,  but  that  it  was  passing 
away.  He  recognised  a  deeper  law  than  man's — that 
mysterious  law  of  God  which  seems  to  take  nation  after 
nation,  and  give  to  nations  their  chance,  and  strengthen 
them  with  universal  victory,  and  then  depose  them,  lest 
one  good  custom  should  corrupt  the  world.  Egypt, 
Chaldea,  Bab3'lon,  Greece,  all  had  had  their  day,  and 
ceased  to  be.     And  so  it  would  be  with  Rome.     This 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  93 


solitary  man  stood  before  its  impregnable  walls,  and 
saw  the  doom  already  written  on  them,  and  in  his 
vision  saw  them  sink  in  the  great  abyss,  and  time  close 
up  above  the  wreck,  as  the  waters  close  up  above  some 
stupendous  shipwreck.  He  said  that  it  would  pass 
away  and  was  passing  away.  We  to-day  know  that 
it  has  passed  away. 

And  it  is  true  of  the  pride  of  knowledge.  The  justest 
and  noblest  pride  of  life,  because  the  highest,  is  the 
pride  of  knowledge.  Yet  that,  too,  is  transient. 
Nothing  shifts  its  boundaries  so  often.  Nothing  is  so 
illusive.  Nothing  passes  through  such  strange  and 
rapid  transformations.  The  knowledge  of  Galileo 
would  be  the  ignorance  of  to-day  ;  and  if  Isaac  Newton 
were  alive  now,  he  would  have  to  go  to  school  again. 
A  century,  a  half-century,  a  single  decade,  is  often 
sufficient  to  thrust  the  most  brilliant  discoveries  into 
oblivion,  and  to  number  them  with  the  memories  of  an 
obsolete  past.  The  steam  engine  has  supplanted  the 
coach  ;  but  the  steam  engine  is  already  passing  away, 
and  in  fifty  years'  time  will  be  supplanted  by  some 
greater  and  more  serviceable  power.  The  telegraph 
has  bound  nations,  together,  and  has  made  all  nations 
neighbours;  but  the  telephone  is  becoming  its  rival:  and 
in  another  century  and  less,  perhaps,  men  will  hear  each 
other'b  whispers  round  the  globe.  Gas  has  played  its 
part,  but  few  can  doubt  that  years  will  efface  it  with  a 
nobler  light ;  and  our  children  will  wonder  at  our  gas 
jets,  just  as  we  wonder  at  and  pity  our  ancestors  with 
their  farthing  candles.     A  thousand  illustrations  might 


94  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

be  given  of  how  knowledge  perpetually  effaces  its  past, 
and  the  discoveries  of  which  we  are  so  proud  perish  even 
while  we  praise  them.  You  cannot  rest  in  science,  for 
science  knows  no  rest.  It  knows  no  finality.  It  is  like 
Jonah's  gourd :  it  doubles  itself  while  he  sleeps.  It 
does  not  abide  ;  it  cannot  abide.  It  is  merely  another 
great  object  lesson  which  the  Great  Master  puts  upon 
His  black-board,  as  it  were ;  and  then  He  rubs  the 
diagram  out  and  begins  a  higher  and  nobler  one.  If, 
then,  you  enthrone  yourself  on  the  confident  edicts  of  the 
latest  science,  if  you  should  oppose  to  the  simplicity  of 
the  Divine  teaching  the  intellectual  pride  of  a  mind 
secure  in  what  it  calls  "  scientific  certainty,"  I  reply 
that  there  is  no  certainty  in  science ;  it  is  passing 
away.  It  affords  no  place  for  the  sole  of  the  foot. 
The  knowledge  of  to-day  will  be  the  ignorance  of 
to-morrow,  and  the  abstrusest  calculations  of  time  will 
be  the  mere  rudiments  and  alphabet  of  eternity. 

Nor  is  this  a  mournful  truth.  It  is  rather  a  glorious 
and  hopeful  one.  It  is  no  tolling  bell  which  announces 
that  the  world  is  passing  away.  It  is  rather  the 
pealing  of  a  triumphant  trumpet.  It  means  that  God's 
law  is  progress ;  and  that  is  a  glorious  truth  for  those 
who  can  understand  it.  But  there  is  a  mournful  side 
to  progress,  and  it  is  that  many  men  resent  it,  and 
cling  to  their  old  habitations  long  after  the  doom  of 
decay  has  been  written  over  them.  School  is  an  admir- 
able thing,  but  we  do  not  always  want  to  be  at  school. 
We  catch  visions  of  a  larger  life  beyond.  We  are 
waiting  for  the  moment  when  the  Master  will  say  that 


WHAT  IT  JS   THAT  ENDURES.  95 

school  is  ended,  and  the  door  is  opened  ;  and  we  shall 
leave  this  little  schoolhouse  to  find  a  world  larger  than 
we  dreamt  of,  and  nobler  and  more  various  in  its  employ- 
ments than  we  have  ever  conceived.  That  is  the  true 
view  of  life  ;  and  therefore  we  cannot  regret,  but  rather 
rejoice,  that  one  by  one  our  lessons  are  ending,  our 
classes  are, being  passed  :  we  are  graduating  in  the 
discipline  of  life,  and  are  passing  to  the  life  of  eternity. 
Well,  then,  what  is  it  that  abides  ?  In  a  word 
it  is  character.  It  is  what  a  man  is,  not  what  a 
man  knows,  or  what  a  man  acquires,  or  what  a  man 
achieves.  Character  outlives  the  centuries.  Moses, 
Paul,  John,  stand  before  the  world  to-day  untouched 
by  the  defacement  of  time.  What  they  were  they 
are,  and  what  they  are  they  will  be  through  all  the 
unmeasured  and  immeasurable  spaces  of  eternity. 
The  lust  of  the  flesh  perishes.  Of  all  those  gay 
multitudes  who  filled  the  streets  of  Ephesus,  and 
paced  with  busy  feet  across  the  squares  of  Corinth, 
not  a  footprint  remains  ;  and  their  passion,  their  pride, 
and  their  lust  have  perished  with  them.  The  lust 
of  the  eyes  perishes ;  and  Babylon  is  marked  by  a 
heap  of  rubbish,  and  ancient  Rome  by  a  crumbling 
arch,  a  weather-beaten  pillar,  a  ruined  Coliseunu 

"  Where  the  domed  and  daring  palape 
Shot  its  spires 
Up  like  fires ; 
Where  a  tower  in  ancient  time 

Sprang  sublime, 
And  a  burning  ring  all  round 
The  chariots  traced 
As  they  raced ; 


96  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

Where  the  multitude  of  men 

Breathed  joy  and  woe 

Long  ago, 
Nowthe  country  does  not  even 

Boast  a  tree, 

As  you  see." 

And  the  pride  of  life,  the  curious  speculations  of  the 
world's  greatest  philosophers,  become  the, pastime  of 
the  learned ;  and  their  names  become  thin  shadows  in 
a  vanished  past.  But  there  is  something  that  abides  ; 
it  is  character.  "He  that  does  the  will  of  God 
abides  for  ever." 

And  that  is  true  in  its  mere  altruistic  and  earthly 
sense.  Character  abides.  We  all  of  us  know  the 
beautiful  verse  of  George  Eliot, — 

"  Oh,  may  I  join  the  choir  invisible 
Of  those  immortal  dead  who  live  again 
In  lives  made  better  by  their  presence." 

It  expresses  a  noble  truth ;  such  lives  do  live  again. 
Such  lives  do  not  know  death.  The  trampling  and 
confusion  of  victorious  armies  die  away;  the  pomp 
and  glory  of  throne  and  court  perish;  the  very  con- 
quests of  knowledge  are  forgotten.  But  lives  that  are 
lived  for  others,  lives  that  are  lived  in  doing  the  will 
of  God,  lives  that  sow  the  seed  of  goodness  and  of 
noble  impulse  in  the  hearts  of  others — those  lives  go 
on  living,  and  defy  the  centuries.  The  thoughts  of 
Paul  are  more  to  us  to-day  than  all  the  triumphs  of 
Rome.  The  life  of  Jesus  is  infinitely  more  to  us 
than  the  lives  of  all  the  Caesars  put  together  And 
when  the  glory  of  empire  is  forgotttn^  and  when  all 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  97 


the  brilliant  achievements  of  a  man's  life  are  blotted 
out  by  the  obhterating  hand  of  death,  Jesus  tells  us 
there  is  one  thing  which  will  be  remembered — one 
thing  which,  perhaps,  the  man  himself  has  forgotten, 
but  it  is  remembered  in  the  heart  of  God  :  inasmuch 
as  this  nan  "gave  a  cup  of  water"  to  one  of  these 
little  ones,  it  is  remembered  at  the  judgment  day, 
when  he  stands  before  his  Master.  Goodness,  mercy, 
love,  all  that  constitutes  character— the  hfe  Hved  in 
the  service  of  others,  the  life  poured  out  in  self-for- 
getful toil,  the  life  of  the  saint,  and  the  hero,  and 
the  martyr— we  see  that  these  do  abide  for  ever  in 
the  memory  of  mankind ;  and  still  more  do  they  abide 
in  the  records  of  heaven. 

But  John  goes  deeper  than  that,  he  shows  us  how 
character  is  to  be  gained.  It  is  by  doing  the  will 
of  God.  In  each  man's  heart  there  is  the  revelation 
(f  that  will.  There  is  no  life  that  God  does  not 
touch.  There  is  no  man  who  can  escape  the  scrutiny 
or  who  can  escape  the  voice  of  God  ;  and  to  do  that 
will  of  God  as  that  will  is  revealed,  to  do  it  when 
it  is  difficult,  to  do  it  simply,  and  humbly,  and  obe- 
diently—that is  the  way  towards  character,  towards 
character  whit  h  outlivt  s  death. 

Notice,  it  is  personal  life  which  John  speaks  of  when 
he  says  that  such  a  man  will  abide  for  ever.  It  is  not 
the  immoitality  of  memory  and  influence.  It  is  not 
that  impel  sonal  im.mortahty  which  simply  means  that 
our  lives  will  be  a  mere  bright  tradition  living  among 
men  and  blessing  them  when  we  are  gone.     Oh,  no : 

7 


98  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

it  is  personal  life.  The  man  who  does  the  will  of 
God  passes  through  a  stage  of  moral  evolution.  He 
enters  upon  immo'tal  life.  He  has  broken  the  barrier 
of  the  earthly,  ard  has  inherited  the  heavenly.  He 
has  touched  a  higher  life,  and  has  already  begun  to 
live  with  an  everlasting  and  Divine  vitality.  Doing 
the  will  of  God,  he  has  put  himself,  as  it  were,  in 
line  and  in  touch  with  the  living  power  of  the  universe ; 
and  he  shares  its  life.  He  has  broken  the  walls  of 
this  sluggish  life  as  the  chrysalis  breaks  its  cerements 
when  the  silken  wings  are  given  to  it,  and  it  flutters 
away  in  o  the  spring  air,  "a  thing  of  beauty  and 
a  joy  for  ever."  So  the  man  who  does  the  will 
of  God  has  passed  out  of  a  lower  condition  into  a 
higher  condition.  He  has  passed  through  a  moral 
evolution  which  enables  him  to  lay  hold  of  a  larger 
and  of  a  higher  life.  He  is  joined  to  God,  and  God 
is  immortal  He  is  grafted  on  a  living  tree ;  and, 
poor  as  the  graft  may  be,  the  life  of  that  Divine 
tree  soon  fills  its  veins  :  and  it,  too,  lives  for  ever. 

O,  young  men  !  there  is  the  secret  of  immortality. 
Do  the  will  of  God ;  love  the  love  of  God  ;  live  the 
life  of  God  :  and  "  this  is  Hfe  eternal,  to  know  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  He  has  sent." 

And,  blessed  be  God,  there  are  men  all  over  the 
world  who  have  consciously  entered  upon  this  eternal 
life.  Just  as  we  see  Paul  or  John  turning  aside  from 
the  crowded  ways  of  som.e  great  city,  leaving  the  wide 
streets,  with  their  brilliant  throngs  and  their  vivid  and 
various  life;  just  as  we  catch  sight  of  them  as  they 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  99 

enter  some  low  doorway  and  find  a  little  group  of 
men  and  women  who  have  received  this  message 
of  immortality,  so  we  turn  aside  from  the  streets  of 
our  great  cities,  and  every  here  and  there  we  find 
gathered  little  groups  and  congregations  of  men  and 
women  who  have  consciously  entered  on  eternal 
life.  Not  many  great,  not  many  mighty,  but  many 
poor  and  many  humble  there  are,  whose  life  is  filled 
with  this  daily  consciousness  of  life  in  God.  They 
feel  in  themselves  the  power  of  an  endless  life.  They 
know  that  Christ  is  born  in  them,  the  hope  of  glory. 
They  know  in  whom  they  have  believed,  and  are 
persuaded  that  He  will  keep  that  which  they  have  com- 
mitted to  Him  against  the  eternal  day.  Their  poor 
homes  are  lit  with  the  splendour  of  the  true  Shechinah. 
Their  feet  move  to  the  sound  of  heavenly  music.  Their 
homes  are  filled  with  the  whisperings  of  voices  sweeter 
than  any  earthly.  They  are  daily  trying  to  live  as 
Christ  lived.  They  are  seeking  to  be  gentle,  meek, 
and  humble,  to  comfort  the  broken-hearted  sister,  to 
nurse  the  sick  child,  to  lift  the  stumbling  feet.  London 
will  pass  away  ;  its  cathedral,  its  Parliament-house, 
its  palaces,  its  Bank,  its  Exchange,  its  mighty  streets, 
its  noble  monuments,  will  all  crumble  before  the  breath 
of  the  ages ;  and  some  day,  perhaps,  the  sea  will 
roll  over  the  spot  where  now  St.  Paul's  lifts  its 
golden  cross,  and  the  wild  fowl  will  cry  over  the 
place  where  once  St.  Stephen's  sheltered  those  who 
held  the  world  in  awe :  but  these,  the  poorest  and 
the   humblest   of  them,  will   live  long   after   London 


lOO  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

has  vanished  Hke  a  distempered  dream — for,  having 
done  the  will  of  God  on  earth,  they  will  have  fitted 
themselves  to  do  the  will  of  God  in  heaven,  and  will 
abide  for  ever.  The  greatness  of  England  herself 
will  one  day  pass  away.  The  bonds  of  her  mighty 
empire  will  be  loosened.  The  story  of  her  long 
supremacy  will  become  a  tale  of  reverend  antiquity, 
and  other  fleets  than  ours  will  sail  the  seas,  and 
another  flag  than  ours  will  be  carried  round  the  world 
in  triumph.  But  the  victory  of  these,  who  did  the 
will  of  God,  will  still  abide,  and  they  will  share  the 
glory  of  a  kingdom  which  is  everlasting  and  of  whose 
power  there  is  no  end. 

And  at  last  the  world  itself  will  toil  onward  to  its 
close,  and  its  central  fires  will  cool  and  its  infinite  life 
and  glory  will  perish;  but  in  that  hour 

"When  the  stars  grow  cold, 
And  the  world  grows  old, 
And  the  leaves  of  the  judgment  book  unfold,** 

those  who  have  done  the  will  of  the  Father  will  still 
abide  in  a  world  where  there  is  no  night,  no  sorrow  or 
sighing,  no  decay  or  death.  Oh,  it  is  no  dream,  it  is 
no  poet's  vision,  it  is  no  vain  utterance.  It  is  the 
message  of  Christ,  uttered,  perhaps,  to  rebellious 
hearts  and  to  sceptical  ears,  that  we  may  come  unto 
Him  and  have  life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly. 

And  we  may  do  another  thing :  we  may  become 
men  of  this  world,  and  have  our  portion  in  this  life. 
We  may  be  dazzled  and  deceived  by  its  splendours ; 
we  may  deny  free  play  to  the  nobler  instincts  that  are 


WHAT  IT  IS   THAT  ENDURES.  loi 

within  us ;  we  may  quench  the  Holy  Spirit  which 
kindles  in  us  Divine  yearnings.  You  may  narrow 
your  life  down  till  you  become  contented  with  it  in 
its  narrowness,  just  as  the  prisoner,  long  imprisoned, 
forgets  the  green,  bright  world  outside  and  the  singing 
of  the  lark,  and  at  last  is  content  with  his  cell,  and  even 
comforts  himself  that  his  cell  is  better  than  another 
next  to  him  ;  and  so  because  there  is  a  lower  depth 
still  opening  which  he  has  not  yet  reached,  he  is  happy 
in  his  narrow  world,  and  congratulates  himself  on  his 
imprisonment.  And  so  you  will  have  your  portion  in 
this  life.  You  will  have  it  as  Dives  had  it,  of  whom 
it  is  said :  "  He  died  and  was  buried."  There  was 
nothing  else  to  say.  But  that  treasure  in  the  heaven, 
that  secure  habitation,  that  Divine  life  of  purity  and 
duty,  you  will  have  lost.  You  will  have  gained  that 
which  brings  with  it  sorrow  in  the  getting.  You  will 
have  lost  that  which  alone  was  worth  the  gaining ; 
and  what  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole 
world  and  lose  his  own  life — his  life  of  lives,  his 
own  soul  ? 


VI. 

PURITY, 

"Keep  thyself  pure." — I  Tim.  v.  22. 

THIS  is  a  counsel  to  a  young  man,  spoken  by  an 
aged  man.  The  young  are  the  strength  of  the 
present  and  the  inheritors  of  the  future  ;  theirs  is  the 
accumulated  wisdom  of  the  ages  which  are  ended  and 
the  endless  hopes  of  the  ages  which  are  to  come. 
They  bring  the  vigour  of  undiminished  energy  into 
the  struggle  where  older  men  are  weary,  and  are  the 
perpetual  reserve-force  which  nature  marches  up  to  re- 
inforce the  baffled  armies  of  to-day.  That  which  aged 
hearts  have  longed  in  vain  to  see  they  will  behold ;  the 
broken  promises  of  the  past  it  will  be  theirs  to  possess 
and  redeem.  The  old  man  catches  at  his  few  remaining 
years  of  life  as  a  miser  at  his  lessening  gold,  but  the 
young  man  has  a  sense  of  infinite  wealth  in  the  un- 
squandered  future  which  is  his.  To  be  young  is  to 
be  a  millionaire  in  hope,  to  feel  young  is  very  bliss.  A 
nation's  future  is  with  her  young  men,  for  what  the  man 
of  twenty  thinks  the  nation  will  soon  think.  I  address 
you,  then,  as  the  only  truly  wealthy  people  in  the  world 
— rich  in  strength,  in  resolve,  in  ambition,  in  time,  in 
opportunity ;  you,  who  stand  in  the  golden  gateways 


PURITY  163 


of  the  dawn,  and  see  the  years  before  you  like  a  fruit- 
ful country  at  your  feet  ripe  for  conquest ;  and  with 
no  nobler  word  can  I  salute  you,  as  you  go  down  to 
your  battle  and  your  inheritance,  than  this  w  rd  of 
Paul's  to  Timothy :  '  Keep  thyself  pure." 

Now,  if  I  were  to  ask  you.  What  is  the  greatest  force 
in  human  life?  I  wonder  what  reply  you  would  give  me. 
There  are  many  men,  and  among  them  those  with  the 
keenest  knowledge  of  the  world,  who  would  perhaps 
answer,  Afow^j/.  See,  they  would  say,  what  money  can  do ! 
It  can  dictate  war  or  peace  for  nations,  it  binds  together 
the  most  distant  lands  with  invisible  cords,  it  can  lift 
the  beggar  into  honour  and  the  pauper  into  the  proud- 
est vantage-ground  of  luxury,  it  can  shake  the  markets 
of  the  world  with  one  whisper  of  its  golden  lips,  it 
can  infect  whole  peoples  with  the  frenzy  of  avarice  at 
the  rattling  of  its  burnished  coin.  Money,  like  a  mighty 
sorceress,  mesmerises  the  world  into  obedience  ;  and  to 
possess  it  the  patriot  will  sell  his  country,  the  man  of 
genius  his  brains,  the  woman  her  chastity,  the  merchant 
his  conscience.  Money  harnesses  the  lightning  to  run 
its  errands,  and  plucks  the  heart  of  the  earth  out  to  swell 
its  gains.  It  is  the  Hfe-blood  of  commerce  and  the 
defence  of  nations.  For  lack  of  it  the  charities  of  noble 
hearts  are  unexpressed,  and  the  inventor's  skill  is  para- 
lysed upon  the  brink  of  victory.  Great  is  money,  cries 
the  youth  who  stands  amid  the  whirl  of  life  in  a  great 
city,  for  is  it  not  what  all  the  city  seeks,  the  secret  pivot 
round  which  all  the  vast  circles  of  the  roaring,  restless 
maelstrom  perpetually  revolve  and  race  ? 


104  I^HE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 


Or,  says  another,  Power,  force  of  intellect,  foresight, 
will — these  things  are  the  mightiest  forces  in  human 
life.  The  faculty  of  governing  makes  one  man  the  lord 
of  m.illions,  and  one  nation  the  dictator  of  the  world. 
Money  without  brains  is  a  w-eapon  without  hands  to 
wield  it ;  money  is  the  end  of  little  men,  but  the  means 
of  great  ones.  But  this  strenuous  faculty,  which  we 
call  greatness  in  a  man,  is  the  real  master,  gathering 
into  its  mighty  hands  the  threads  of  opportunity,  and 
weaving  from  them  the  purple  robe  of  fame,  defying 
circumstance,  and  making  it  the  ladder  of  ambition. 

Or,  cries  yet  another,  Love  is  the  real  master  of  the 
universe.  Men  are  governed  by  their  passions,  and 
the  heart  is  the  rudder  which  turns  the  ship  of  man- 
hood whither  it  will  upon  the  roaring  time-floods. 
The  heajrt  prompts  the  intellect,  and  the  intellect  rules 
tlie  will,  and  the  will  shapes  the  world.  Love,  in  the 
blindness  of  its  passion,  has  wrecked  empires,  ruined 
statesmen,  and  sapped  the  pillars  of  the  most  ancient 
thrones  and  temples.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  vital  heat  of 
life,  and  the  hearts  of  men  are  the  real  seats  of  govern- 
ment, the  centres  from  which  the  world  is  ruled. 

Money,  Power,  Love — is  there  no  mightier  force  in 
the  world  than  these  ?  Money,  which  takes  to  itself 
wings  and  flies  away ;  power,  which  covers  the  world 
with  empire  and  perishes  in  the  impotence  of  exile; 
love,  which  drops  its  magic  wand  at  the  vision  of  the 
open  grave  ?  Think  again ;  is  there  nothing  higher, 
mightier,  diviner  ?  There  is.  Character  is  the  grandest 
force  the  world  possesses.     It  is  that  which  determines 


PURITY.  105 


the  use  and  direction  of  money,  and  love,  and  ambition. 
It  is  that  which  is  the  secret  force  working  behind  and 
through  all  human  life.  It  is  character  which  shapes 
the  centmics,  and  leaves  its  indelible  mark  on  the 
records  of  the  world.  Character  never  dies  ;  the  tomb 
is  its  enfranchisement,  the  indefinite  enlargement  of  its 
area  of  influence.  The  words  of  Shakespeare  are  but 
the  beautiful  vesture  spun  to  clothe  his  character,  and 
his  character  is  the  living  form  which  moves  within 
his  works.  Character  is  that  solitary  and  inalienable 
possession  which  time  and  death  cannot  destroy,  which 
survives  vicissitudes  and  sorrows,  which  rises  triumphant 
over  the  brief  infamy  of  slander,  and  pierces  the  frail 
defence  of  lying  praise ;  character  is  that  which  shapes 
life  and  determines  destiny,  and  which  death  itself  is 
impotent  to  annihilate  or  overthrow. 

Now,  push  the  question  a  step  further,  and  ask,  what 
is  the  greatest  force  in  determining  character  ?  There, 
again,  you  might  reply,  Energy,  perseverance,  purpose; 
but  these  are  the  results  rather  than  the  causes  of 
character.  There  is  a  diviner  quality,  and  that  is 
Purity.  Purity  is  Hfe  ;  purity  is  the  true  vital  element 
which  supplies  energy  to  character.  Glance  over  the 
crowded  field  of  human  action,  and  see  how  true  this  is. 
There  are  men  we  meet  who  seem  prodigally  g  fted  in 
many  ways,  but  there  is  some  mysterious  lack  about 
them,  of  which  we  are  painfully  conscious.  Their 
words  are  eloquent  and  beautiful  enough,  yet  they  do 
not  impress  us;  their  presence  is  fascinating,  yet  it  has 
no  potency  really  to  affect  others.     Somehow  we  do 


io6  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

not  trust  them  ;  there  is  an  instinct  which  warns  us 
they  are  laths  painted  to  look  like  iron,  that  their 
brilliance  springs  from  no  true  interior  light,  but  is 
merely  outward,  like  the  deceptive  glimmer  of  phos- 
phorescent paint,  which  makes  a  clothes-prop  shine 
like  a  pillar  of  fire ;  that,  in  fact,  the  real  man  is  very 
different  to  the  apparent  man.  There  are  other  men 
we  meet  whose  intellectual  gifts  are  perhaps  very 
limited,  but  yet  they  are  clothed  with  a  mysterious 
power,  and  make  us  sensible  of  a  prevailing  personality. 
There  is  something  accompanying  the  word  they  speak, 
a  breath  of  divinest  music  which  pierces  to  the  heart's 
core.  Men  say  when  they  leave  such  a  man,  ^'  He's  a 
good  man,"  although  he  has  never  said  a  word  about 
religion.  Bad  and  worldly  men  seem  to  feel  a  strange 
and  subtle  fragrance  falling  on  their  world-hardened 
hearts  while  they  talk  with  them,  like  the  faint  gust  of 
sweet  perfume  blown  by  spring  winds  from  distant 
violet-beds  and  yellow  meadows,  which  sometimes 
penetrates  the  London  smoke,  and  meets  us  unaware, 
and  suddenly  makes  us  yearn  for  the  country.  What 
is  this  power?  It  is  purity.  Like  the  light  which 
shone  on  the  face  of  Mo?es  after  he  had  talked  with 
God,  so  a  mysterious  splendour  seems  to  clothe  the 
man  whose  heart  is  pure.  But  the  impure  heart 
vitiates  everything.  It  leer^  like  a  satyr  out  of  the 
eyes  which  gleam  with  intellect ;  it  runs  like  a  mocking 
discord  through  the  voice  which  thrills  with  eloquence. 
The  impure  man  carries  with  him  a  force  which  per- 
meates and  spoils  everything,  and  which  discounts  all 


PURITY,  107 


his  gifts  of  intellect.  It  was  purity  which  robed  Christ 
as  with  a  garment  of  power,  and  was  an  invisible 
armour  shielding  Him  from  the  shafts  of  enmity.  It 
was  the  secret  of  a  majesty  men  could  not  comprehend, 
of  a  spell  men  yielded  to  even  while  they  hated  Him. 
It  fell  upon  them  like  a  great  and  searching  light ; 
silent  as  the  light  it  wrought  its  magic,  mighty  as  the 
light  it  miraculously  prevailed,  beautiful  as  the  light  it 
shamed  the  darkness  and  drove  it  back  discomfited. 
Unquenched  by  infamy  and  death,  it  broke  out  anew 
upon  a  cross  at  whose  foot  the  very  executioner  cried, 
"  This  is  a  just  man  ; "  and  it  has  since  flooded  the 
world  with  a  splendour  which  has  pierced  all  ages  and 
drawn  the  wondering  regard  of  all.  Christ  was  the 
Light  of  the  world,  and  the  light  that  dwelt  in  Him 
was  the  Divine  Light  of  a  perfect  purity. 

That  absolute  sinless  purity  of  Christ  stands 
alone  ;  but  I  have  now  to  ask  you  to  remember  that 
there  are  two  great  inheritances  which  every  man  starts 
the  world  with — viz.,  Human  Innocence  and  Puritv. 
Christ  presupposed  that  when  He  looked  round  upon 
that  great  crowd  at  the  Mount,  and  said,  "  Blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God."  He  seemed 
to  have  recognised  there  some  of  those  flower-like 
human  faces  which  are  full  of  innocence.  Paul  also 
urges  Timothy  to  maintain  unimpaired  that  which  he 
already  possesses  :  "  Keep  thyself  pure."  Christ  makes 
the  type  of  Christian  character  a  little  child  ;  and  to 
have  a  child's  heart — fresh,  loving,  docile,  innocent — is 
to  enter  the  kingdom  of  God.     Do  you  say,   Has  the 


io8  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 

child  no  evil  tendencies  ?  There  are  tendencies,  tem- 
pers, passions  which  are  full  of  peril,  but  the  child's 
heart  is  pure,  his  mind  is  untainted.  He  comes  to  us 
clothed  in  the  celestial  raiment  of  innocence,  and  purity 
is  the  crown  and  secret  of  his  beauty.  O  blessed  little 
children,  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  cry,  would  that 
we  could  keep  you  from  the  evil  sights  and  sounds  of 
this  sad  world!  Would  that  we  might  shut  you  up  in 
some  garden  of  lilies  and  roses,  far  from  the  ways  oi 
men,  that  you  might  grow  as  sweetly  as  the  flowers, 
and  be  clothed  with  as  fair  a  beauty,  and  distil  as  rich 
a  fragrance  !  Would  that  the  tender  bloom  upon  the 
mind  might  never  be  rubbed  off,  that  the  pathetic 
ignorance  of  evil  might  never  be  bartered  for  polluting 
knowledge!  But  for  whom  is  that  possible?  And  if 
it  were  possible,  would  it  be  desirable  ?  Have  not  men 
and  women  often  fled  the  world  to  escape  the  evil  of 
the  world,  and  has  not  the  result  been  that  the  pc  llu- 
tions  of  the  n  on.stery  have  outweighed  its  pieties  ? 
I  should  be  a  poor  coun  e.lor  of  young  men  if  I  taught 
3  ou  that  purity  is  only  pj£s"b'e  by  isolation  from  the 
v/orld.  We  do  not  want  that  sort  of  hohness  which 
can  only  thrive  in  seclusion  ;  we  want  that  virile, 
manly  purity  which  keeps  itself  unspotted  from  the 
world,  even  amid  its  worst  debasements,  just  as  the 
lily  lifts  its  slender  chalice  of  white  and  gold  to  heaven, 
untainted  by  the  soil  in  which  it  grows,  though  that 
soil  be  the  reservoir  of  death  and  putrefaction.  You 
may  make  your  bed  in  hell,  and  yet  be  clothed  with 
the   raiment  of  heaven ;  you  may  touch   the  impure, 


PURITY.  109 


and  know  the  secrets  of  impurity,  and  yet  keep  the 
untainted  thought  and  uncorrupted  Hfe.  Innocence 
perishes,  but  purity  may  survive.  One  has  the  fragile 
beauty  of  the  flower,  the  other  of  the  block  of  crystal, 
drawn  out  of  the  darkness,  but  still  white  ;  or  of  the 
diamond,  lying  in  its  bed  of  clay,  but  with  the  fiery 
sunlight  still  stored  up  in  its  heart,  and  flashed  forth 
undimmed  upon  the  comradeship  of  dust  in  which  it 
lies.  Innocent  we  scarce  can  be ;  pure  we  all  may  be. 
I  ask  you  then  to  notice.  Purity  is  possible;  it  is  a 
possession;  it  may  be  kept,  *' Keep  thyself:"  that 
teaches  individual  responsibility.  Get  that  fact  clear 
and  distinct  to  the  mind;  grasp  it,  and  live  by  it. 
And  why  do  I  emphasise  this  very  trite  and  common- 
place observation?  Because  we  hve  in  a  world  of 
bottomless  cant,  and  the  first  duty  of  a  true  man  is  to 
free  his  mind  from  cant.  Men  pray  "  lead  us  not  into 
temptation,"  and  then  hang  round  a  drinking-bar ;  they 
say  *'  deliver  us  from  evil,"  and  then  sit  down  to  read 
a  scrofulous  French  novel.  Men  pray  God  to  keep 
them,  and  then  open  their  ears  to  the  foul  story  or 
indecent  jest ;  they  look  to  God's  grace  to  save  them, 
but  they  take  no  pains  to  save  themselves.  But  God's 
grace  is  useless  to  the  man  who  will  not  use  it.  It 
is  hke  the  sunlight ;  we  can  have  it  for  the  asking, 
but  we  must  draw  up  our  blinds  to  let  it  in.  It  is 
like  water — everywhere — but  God  does  not  cause  it 
to  spring  up  exactly  under  our  dining-room  tables  to 
save  us  the  trouble  of  drawing  it ;  if  we  want  it,  we 
must  fetch  it.     How  can  God  keep  a  man  pure  who 


no  THE    THRESHOLD   OE  MANHOOD. 

has  eyes  full  of  adultery,  and  who  lets  his  imagination 
feed  upon  the  secret  suggestions  of  unchaste  passion  ? 
A  'man  might  as  well  pray  to  escape  fever,  and  yet 
persist  in  sleeping  with  a  fever  corpse  ;  to  escape  fever 
you  must  guard  against  it.  Young  men  plead  the 
strength  of  their  passions  and  the  ardency  of  their 
imaginations,  but  strong  passions  are  simply  an  in- 
dication of  weak  will.  The  world  is  full  of  bright  and 
holy  things  for  the  imagination  to  feed  upon;  but  if 
you  feed  it  with  offal,  what  wonder  that  the  thought 
is  coarse  ?  A  man's  will  is  the  king  of  his  body ;  let 
the  will  rule  then.  But  remember  you  cannot  take 
fire  into  the  bosom  and  not  be  burned;  you  cannot 
listen  to  impure  jests  and  be  unpolluted ;  you  cannot 
read  vile  stories  and  remain  clean  ;  the  seat  of  the 
scorner  is  a  bad  place  to  sing  God's  praises  in,  and  he 
W'ho  stands  in  the  way  of  the  ungodly  soon  is  hustled 
onward  by  the  crowd,  and  must  needs  walk  and  run 
in  the  way  too.  If  thou  wouldst  be  pure,  "  Keep 
thyself  pure." 

Further,  it  must  be  noted  Purity  is  not  Outward^  but 
Inward.  How  can  a  man  keep  himself  pure  ?  Read 
Leviticus,  and  you  will  see  how  men  once  attempted 
it.  The  Mosaic  law  is  one  great  treatise  on  purity  ; 
there  were  certain  meats  impure,  certain  acts  and  con- 
ditions of  health  impure,  and  certain  washings  and 
ceremonies  were  needed  to  restore  the  forfeited  purity. 
It  was  all  outward  and  physical,  and  for  a  degraded 
people,  learning  the  alphabet  of  moraHty,  it  was  no 
doubt  a    good  and  wise    discipline.      Nations  walk 


PURITY.  I»« 


before  they  run  ;  they  learn  the  elements  of  physical 
purity  before  the  greater  lesson  of  spiritual   purity, 
and  perhaps  a  clean  body  has  more  to  do  with  a  clean 
mind  than  some  of  us   suppose.      But   because    this 
Mosaic  purity  was  all  physical  and  outward,  it  broke 
down   ultimately.      Men  found  out  that   purity  began 
within  and  worked  outward,  not  without  and  worked 
inward.     And  so,  what  did  David  say?     He  had  no 
doubt   scrupulously   observed   every   law   of  physical 
purity,  and  yet  in  one  wild  hour  of  passion  he  became 
an  adulterer  and  a  murderer.     And  then  what  did  he 
say  ?     ''  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and  renew 
a  right  spirit  within   me!"     The  fifty-first  Psalm   is 
the  most  pathetic  cry  which  ever  came  up  to  God  from 
the  depths  of  a  man's  sore  heart  and  sinful  spirit !     It 
is  the  acknowledgment  that  sin  begins  inside  a  man, 
and   that   there  can  be  no  change  of  act  till  there  is 
a  change  of  heart ;  that  to  be  pure  the  spirit  must  be 
pure;  to  act  righteously  we   must  think    righteously; 
to  Hve  w^ell  before  men  we  must  live  well  before  God. 
''  Oh,"  cries  the  poor,   soiled,  broken-spirited  man  in 
his  hour  of  shame,  ''  create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  and 
renew  a  right  spirit  within  me  ! " 

Perhaps  this  lesson  also,  that  Purity  is  inward  and 
not  outward,  seems  a  very  trite  and  commonplace  one ; 
but  see  how  much  it  implies.  Are  not  men  perpetually 
blaming  circumstance  instead  of  self?  There  is  a  youth 
listening  to  my  words  who  is  fresh  from  the  country. 
The  first  efiect  the  multitudinous  life  of  a  great  city 
has  had  on  your  mind  is   to   loosen  your  seuse  of 


112  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

rerpf  risibility.  Your  individuality  seems  blotted  out 
in  tl.is  great  n  ass  of  men.  At  home  every  one  knev^r 
yoU;  and  this  sense  of  their  scrutiny  was  a  restraint 
upon  you.  Here  no  one  knows  you,  and  you  are  in 
the  perilous  position  of  one  who  can  do  wrong  without 
loss  of  reputation.  And  then,  too,  there  is  another 
influence  of  a  great  city  which  you  have  already  felt. 
A  great  city  seems  to  give  publicity  to  things  only 
hinted  at  in  the  country.  Life  is  on  a  magnificent 
scale,  and  the  cracks  scarcely  discerned  on  the  small 
picture  yawn  wide  and  plain  on  the  vaster  canvas. 
You  see  things  you  only  dreamt,  and  hear  things  you 
only  thought,  and  touch  things  you  only  imagined. 
And  then  you  begin  to  delude  yourself  that  if  you  had 
only  remained  in  the  village  you  could  have  been  pure, 
but  that  purity  is  scarcely  possible  in  a  "  Sodom  ol 
covetousness  and  fornication,"  whose  smoke  ascends 
day  and  night,  ai.d  blots  out  the  healing  vision  and 
blue  serenity  of  heaven.  Is  that  what  you  say  ?  It 
is  all  false,  sir,  and  you  know  it !  The  village  has  its 
vice  as  well  as  the  city ;  morally  the  city  is  only  the 
village  writ  large.  If  you  are  not  pure  in  thought 
here,  neither  would  you  be  there.  Such  excuses 
simply  amount  to  this :  you  were  virtuous  when  you 
could  not  sin,  but  ycu  are  ready  to  sin  as  soon  as 
opportunity  shall  connive  with  your  desire.  You  blame 
the  situation,  but  the  man  makes  the  situation,  not  the 
situation  the  man.  I  have  no  faith  in  hot-house  virtue 
which  can  only  thrive  in  peculiar  soils,  and  at  given 
temperatures;   true  virtue   is   virtue   anywhere.     The 


PURITY.  113 


true  gentlerran  behaves  as  finely  before  paupers  as 
before  kings ;  the  truly  honest  man  is  as  honest  stand- 
ing up  to  his  knees  in  another  man's  gold  as  in  keeping 
a  bag  of  coppers  safe ;  and  true  purity  is  purity  any- 
where, just  as  light  is  light  everywhere,  whether  it 
stream  into  the  lazar-house  of  vice,  or  fall  on  the 
sumptuous  embroideries  which  are  in  kings'  chambers. 
And  why  is  it  so  ?  Because  it  is  inward  and  not  out- 
ward ;  it  is  independent  of  circumstances  and  triumphs 
over  them.  If  you  have  the  pure  heart,  it  will  be  as 
pure  amid  the  smoke  of  London  as  in  the  clear  atmo- 
sphere of  your  native  village  ;  and  so  far  from  speaking 
in  scornful  anger  of  great  cities,  you  will  recognise 
that  great  cities  are  the  great  battle-grounds  of  Christ, 
where  the  harder  conditions  of  the  strife  only  make 
the  warfare  doubly  glorious. 

See,  too,  how  men  deceive  themselves  by  practising 
an  outward  purity  when  there  is  none  within.  You 
have  never  done  an  unchaste  deed,  you  resent  the 
imputation  with  an  angry  blush.  And,  O  my  brother, 
it  is  much  to  be  able  to  say  that!  There  are  thousands 
who  would  give  a  year  of  life  to  be  able  to  say  it, 
thousands  who  to-day  are  plagued  with  the  hideous 
memory  of  one  vile  act,  and  who  cry  in  vain,  as  Lady 
Macbeth  did,  "  Out,  damned  spot  ! "  But  examine 
your  own  heart,  and  tell  me  what  thoughts  are  yours  ? 
What  shapes  are  these  which  inhabit  the  secret 
chambers  of  the  soul  ?  Have  you  made  your  memory 
the  haunt  of  unclean  stories  ?  Do  you  not  often  set 
the   imagination    om    fire   with    evil    suggestions,   till 

8 


114  ^-^^    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

through  the  unguarded  doorways  of  the  heart  troop 
the  satyrs,  and  your  inward  eye  gazes  unabashed  on 
the  riot  of  corruption  ?  You  have  not  done  the  act 
but  you  have  thought  it ;  you  have  not  broken  the 
command,  but  you  have  desired  to;  outwardly  you 
are  without  spot,  but  you  are  a  leper  within.  O,  let 
me  plead  with  you,  ''Keep  thyself  pure."  ''Every 
man  is  tempted  when  he  is  led  away  of  his  own  lust 
and  enticed."  You  are  the  tempter  of  yourself.  Sin 
is  a  thing  of  desire  before  it  can  be  incarnated  in  the 
deed.  Dismiss  the  alluring  shape ;  shake  off  the  vile 
spell ;  fall  to  your  knees  and  pray  mightily  to  the 
God  who  gives  us  the  power  we  lack,  for  you  stand  in 
slippery  places.  The  foulest  monsters  of  humanity 
once  stood  where  you  are  standing.  They  drank  in 
eagerly  the  suggestions  of  iniquity ;  they  acted  out  the 
drama  of  wrong  a  thousand  times  in  the  empty  theatre 
of  the  heart.  Then  the  divine  shyness  of  modesty 
began  to  die  away ;  they  went  a  little  and  a  little 
nearer  to  the  dance  of  death,  till  its  poisonous  wind 
swept  their  faces,  and  the  odour  of  its  intoxicating 
pollution  smote  upon  their  senses,  and  the  fringe  of 
its  flying  raiment  touched  them  as  it  passed,  till  in- 
sensibly their  feet  too  began  to  tremble  with  the 
passion  of  the  dance,  and  at  last  they  were  drawn 
into  its  hideous  circle,  and  swept  on  and  on  till,  fallen, 
broken,  maimed,  ruined,  there  was  given  unto  them 
the  heart  of  a  beast  and  not  the  heart  of  a  man  !  By 
the  fiery  anguish  and  the  shame,  the  lazar-house  and 
the  early  grave,  the  ruin  of  great  gifts  and  downfall 


PURITY.  115 


of  brilliant  hopes  and  purposes,  I  adjure  you,  young 
man,    "  Keep  thyself  pure." 

I  put  purity  before  you,  then,  as  the  badge  of  the 
noblest  manhood.  A  man  is  never  so  contemptible  as 
when  he  imagines  there  is  anything  clever  in  wicked- 
ness. Yet  men  do  imagine  it,  and  say  it  too.  Inno- 
cence is  ridiculed,  and  vice  is  half  admired.  To  be  a 
man  of  the  world,  to  see  life,  to  know  its  shameful 
by-paths,  and  be  familiar  with  its  mysteries  of  wicked- 
ness— this  is  often  the  ambition  of  very  young  and 
very  foolish  men.  There  are  those  who  must  know 
these  things,  because  their  duty  lies  among  the  shadows 
of  human  life.  The  magistrate,  the  physician,  the 
minister  must  know  many  things  which  are  sad  and 
tragical  and  bad  to  know.  For  the  great  majority  the 
veil  which  covers  those  darker  secrets  of  hfe  need  not 
be  lilted  ;  and  let  them  thank  God  for  it.  But  mark, 
that  is  nevertheless  not  purity  which  can  only  exist  by 
ignorance  of  evil.  Who  is  purer,  the  country  youth 
who  cannot  imagine  the  dreadful  indecencies  of  a 
London  slum,  or  the  man  who  knows  every  nook  of 
their  secret  foulness,  because  he  is  daily  there  to  help, 
and  purify,  and  heal  ?  Is  the  country  maiden,  with 
her  sweet  and  innocent  thoughts,  any  purer  than  an 
Elizabeth  Fry,  standing  as  Carlyle  described  having 
seen  her  stand,  like  a  fair  white  lily  among  the  name- 
less abominations  of  old  Newgate  ?  No ;  it  is  the 
purity  of  such  natures  which  is  the  secret  of  their 
sympathy,  and  their  sympathy  is  the  fountain  of  their 
service.     Prudishness  shuns  the  vicious  as  an  infected 


Ii6  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

population  ;  purity  pities  them,  and  goes  among  them 
to  redeem  them.  Prudishness  shudders  at  evil  where 
no  evil  is  meant ;  purity  .touches  evil,  but  is  undefiled. 
Prudishness  affects  a  virtue,  though  it  has  it  not  ;  but 
the  strength  of  true  virtue  is  not  to  shun  vice,  but  to 
vanquish  it.  Prudishness  is  the  outcome  of  a  diseased 
pruriency ;  but  to  the  pure  all  things  are  pure,  and  the 
knowledge  of  ill  falls  from  true  purity  as  the  mud-clots 
from  the  white  raiment  of  Faithful  at  the  fair.  To  be 
pure  in  heart  is  to  be  strong  for  the  service  of  man  ; 
and  the  purer  a  man  is  the  more  pitiful,  self-sacrificing, 
and  effective  will  be  his  service.  '  Blessed  are  the 
pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God."  With  them 
the  vision  of  God  perpetually  tarries,  and  they  know 
Him  whom  to  know  is  life  eternal.  These  are  the 
men  we  want  to-day ;  men  who  see  God,  who  live 
ever  in  the  clear  light  of  God,  who  know  Him  as  a 
Father  and  serve  Him  as  a  Master,  who  touch  Him 
and  are  strong.  These  are  the  men  we  want  to-day — 
men  unstained  by  impurity,  but  pitiful  to  the  impure, 
to  whom  no  depth  is  too  low  or  heart  too  vile  for  the 
heahng  touch  of  their  wise  and  tender  sympathy.  We 
want  pure  men  in  the  Press,  the  Senate,  and  the  office, 
who  shall  shame  vice  into  silence  by  their  lives,  and 
raise  men  into  manly  virtue  by  their  deeds.  We  want 
pure  men  and  pure  women  in  the  drawing-rooms  of 
society,  who  shall  make  the  profligate  conscious  of  his 
moral  leprosy  by  their  example,  and  visit  him  with 
that  rebuke  which  society  is  ever  so  loath  to  give  to 
the  titled  and  the  wealthy.     When   such   men  attack 


PURITY.  117 


wrong  their  '^strength  is  as  the  strength  often,  because 
their  hearts  are  pure."  They  bring  to  the  battle  of  the 
right  no  maimed  and  halting  will,  but  the  undiminished 
vigour  of  a  clean  heart  and  right  spirit.  And  it  is 
because  the  battle  of  the  future  is  with  the  young  men 
of  any  given  age,  these  words  of  an  old  veteran  to 
a  young  man  gather  such  solemn  emphasis  and  force, 
*^  Keep  thyself  pure." 

There  are  those  to  whom  I  speak  who  have  lost  not 
only  innocence,  but  purity.  Your  memory  is  full  of 
the  unquiet  ghosts  of  long-dead  deeds  of  wrong ;  your 
record  is  one  of  strong  passions  and  weak  will.  There 
is  nothing  vvhicli  sears  the  conscience  like  impurity  ; 
there  is  nothing  so  fatal  to  the  finest  instincts  and  so 
debasing  to  the  nobler  impulses.  Of  that  you  yourselves 
are  only  too  bitter  witnesses;  you  do  the  sin,  and  hate 
it ;  you  fly  the  sin,  and  are  drawn  back  by  a  lure 
stronger  than  your  will ;  you  resolve  to  break  the  bond, 
but  the  chain  of  habit  seems  rusted  into  the  very  flesh  ; 
and  often,  O  how  often  !  you  think  of  the  bright  days 
of  young  innocence,  and  wish  with  what  a  passion  of 
wild  regret  you  were  a  boy  again.  That  cannot  be. 
But  you  may  be  born  again.  You  may  be  forgiven, 
and  receive  into  yourself  the  principle  of  a  new  life 
which  is  stronger  than  sin.  "  His  name  shall  be  called 
Jesus,  for  He  shall  save  His  people  from  their  sins." 
Was  ever  music  half  so  sweet  as  that  ?  It  is  music  : 
the  music  of  a  Divine  hope.  Christ  claims  your  man- 
hood ;  He  waits  to  restore  you  to  a  nobler  freedom,  to 
instil  the  habit  of  love  which  shall  be  stronger  than  the 


Il8  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

habit  of  sin  ;    and  you  may  know   the  truth,  and  the 
truth  will  make  you  free ! 

There  are  others  who,  like  Timothy,  owe  much  to 
heredity.  Timothy  had  a  godly  mother  and  a  godly 
grandmother,  and  came  of  pure  and  noble  stock.  The 
best  inheritance  God  can  give  a  man  to  start  life  with 
is  a  pious  ancestry  and  a  good  home,  and  this  many 
of  you  have  had.  But  the  purest  ancestry,  the  godliest 
home,  the  cleanest  blood,  will  not  prevent  temptation, 
and  you  are  face  to  face  with  the  great  transgression 
of  the  world.  Seek  strength  from  God  then,  that  you 
may  keep  your  inheritance  unimpaired.  Beware  the 
idle  thought,  the  gleam  of  satanic  entrancement  shot  on 
you  from  wicked  eyes,  the  impure  jest,  the  book  which 
calls  itself  realistic,  but  whose  realism  is  the  Hterature 
of  the  sewer,  the  naked,  shameless  study  of  those 
secrets  of  putrefaction  which  God  and  nature  hasten 
to  hide  in  merciful  oblivion — beware  these  things.  To 
see  God  is  better  than  to  "  see  Hfe,"  and  *'  Blessed  are 
the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God."  There  is  no 
cleverness  in  vice ;  it  is  mere  brutality  and  shame,  and 
to  know  nothing  is  better  than  to  know  evil.  In  virtue 
only  is  strength,  in  purity  only  is  the  secret  of  peaceful 
thoughts  and  manly  energy,  and  wise  and  temperate  life 
ripening  into  good  old  ?ge.  l^ake  not  the  Sodom's  apple 
though  the  very  bloom  of  heaven  seem  to  clothe  it ;  it 
will  but  turn  to  dust  and  bitterness  between  the  teeth. 
Covet  not  the  bad  man's  knowledge  ;  it  is  a  poison 
working  anguish  and  desolation  in  the  Hfe.  Calm  and 
undramatic  as  your  life  may  appear  beside  the  delirious 


PURITY,  ri9 


whirl  and  passion  of  lives  swept  into  the  dreadful  mael- 
strom of  evil,  yet  remember  yours  is  safe  life,  yours  is 
true  life,  yours  is  noble  life,  yours  is  abiding  life  too.  I 
remind  you  of  the  last  words  of  Gough,  uttered  in  that 
very  instant  when  death  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips — 
words  in  which  the  whole  teaching  of  that  eloquent 
tongue  seemed  compressed  :  "  Young  man,  keep  your 
record  clean  !"  I  remind  you,  also,  of  older  words  than 
his,  in  which  the  wisdom  of  many  buried  ages  lingers  : 
"  Therefore,  keep  innocence  " — or  we  will  say  purity — 
"  and  do  the  thing  which  is  right :  so  shalt  thou  be 
brought  at  the  last  to  thine  end  in  peace." 


VII. 

THE  SIN  OF  ESAU. 

"Lest  there  be  any  fornicator  or  profane. person,  as  Esau,  who  for 
one  morsel  of  meat  sold  his  birthright.  For  ye  know  how  that 
afterward,  when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he  was 
rejected  :  for  he  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he  sought  it 
carefully  with  tears." — Heb.  xii.  i6,  17. 

THE  Bible  is  the  story  of  the  moral  evolution  of 
the  human  race,  and  it  is  this  truth  which  gives 
such  emphasis  and  value  to  the  individual  histories 
which  are  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures. 
Sceptics  say — nay,  honest  and  perplexed  doubters  say, 
"  Look  at  the  frightful  record  of  brutal  and  relentless 
wars  which  the  Hebrew  Scriptures  contain ;  the  fierce 
and  cruel  spirit  which  sometimes  turns  even  the  Psalms 
of  David  into  curses,  and  strikes  every  string  of  that 
clear  harp  into  discord ;  the  records  of  individual 
violence,  meanness,  cupidity,  craft,  and  lust,  in  which 
the  historical  books  of  Israel  abound — and  is  this  your 
Bible  ?  "  Yes,  this  is  our  Bible,  and  its  very  honesty 
is  the  pledge  of  its  authenticity  and  the  seal  of  its 
value.  No  other  book  takes  so  solemn  a  view  of  life, 
or  is  marked  by  so  terrible  a  fidelity  in  its  delineations 
of  life.  But  throughout  the  Bible  we  see  moral  evolu- 
tion  going   on.     As    the  race  of  men  march  onward 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  121 

the  light  grows  clearer,  and  the  conception  of  God  is 
nobler.  Evolution  begins  its  work  in  the  dark  voids 
of  the  uncreated  world,  and  among  the  first  blind 
struggles  of  a  primeval  race ;  it  ends  it  in  the  city  of 
which  the  Lamb  is  the  light,  where  all  nations  and 
peoples  and  tongues  swell  the  vast  unison  of  the  final 
song  of  triumph  before  the  face  of  God.  So  rudi- 
mentary were  Jacob's  ideas  of  God  that  he  thought 
when  he  fled  from  Esau  that  he  had  left  God  behind 
him  in  the  tents  of  Luz,  and  it  was  with  amazement 
he  cried,  when  he  woke  from  his  dream  of  the  staircase 
of  fire  on  which  the  angels  moved  in  tender  minis- 
trations, "  God  is  here  too  !  God  was  in  this  place 
and  I  knew  it  not ! "  And  this  truth,  which  dawned 
upon  the  mind  of  a  fugitive  suffering  the  rewards  of 
sin,  goes  on  expanding  and  completing  itself  until 
Christ  says,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always,"  and  Paul 
says,  "  God  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us."  The 
Bible  is  thus  the  priceless  chronicle  of  the  evolution 
of  moral  ideas,  and  this  truth  is  the  key  to  the  right 
understanding  of  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures.  Man 
begins  with  rudimentary  and  imperfect  conceptions  of 
God ;  he  ends  with  the  universal  prayer,  "  Our  Father, 
which  art  in  heaven  !  " 

Another  thing  we  need  to  be  reminded  of  in  study- 
ing the  individual  histories  of  the  Old  Testament  is 
that  human  nature  is  essentially  the  same  in  all  ages. 
Go  deep  down  through  the  crust  of  the  earth,  the 
mere  filament  of  soil  and  verdure  with  which  nature 
covers  her  abysses,  and  what  do  we  find  ?     We  find 


122  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


immense  and  definite  strata,  which  run  under  the  soil 
of  many  nations,  now  dipping  deep,  now  breaking 
through  the  surface,  but  uniting  the  antipodes  them- 
selves with  a  gigantic  chain  of  stone.  A  hundred 
differing  races  Hve  and  toil  above  ;  here  the  earth  is 
green  with  spring,  and  there  white  with  snow  and 
swept  by  icy  winds ;  but  underneath  all,  this  back- 
bone of  the  world  runs,  and  is  unchanged.  Even  so, 
beneath  all  differences  of  nationality  and  environment, 
the  primordial  elements  of  human  nature  remain 
unchanged.  Beneath  the  dim  gulfs  of  vanished  time 
runs  an  invisible  network  of  communication,  along 
which  the  most  distant  z%'^  discharges  the  electric 
current  of  its  sympathy  and  influence  to  the  most 
modern.  The  rich  man  has  the  same  prime  elements 
of  character  as  the  poor  man,  and  *^  one  touch  of 
nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin."  Beneath  the 
delicate  veneer  of  the  highest  European  civilisation 
lurk  the  passions  of  the  savage,  and  it  only  needs  the 
fierce  call  of  war  to  awaken  the  murderous  instincts 
which  have  slumbered,  and  fill  the  world  with  a 
sudden  access  of  brutahty  and  fury.  The  centuries 
may  lie  thick  as  fallen  leaves  beneath  Esau  and  Paul, 
but  there  are  underlying  strata  which  unite  them. 
There  are  Esaus  in  modern  fife  menaced  by  precisely 
the  same  temptations  before  which  the  ancient  Esau 
fell,  and  therefore  Paul's  illustration  is  never  obsolete 
when  he  says,  "  Looking  diligently,  lest  there  be  any 
fornicator  or  profane  person,  as  Esau."  Esau's  was  a 
beacon-life,    casting    a    glare   of    lurid    warning   over 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  123 


human  history,  Hke  the  light  flashed  down  an  iron 
coast,  gleaming  fitfully  over  fatal  waters,  and  pro- 
claiming the  sunken  shoals  and  foaming  wells  of  the 
sea  which  wait  to  swallow  the  unwary.  History  is 
full  of  such  warning  lights.  Such  a  life  was  Byron's 
— a  great  beacon-fire,  lit  with  the  wreck  of  high 
hopes  and  splendid  gifts.  Such  a  life  was  Wolsey's, 
*'  floating  many  a  day  upon  a  sea  of  glory,"  only  to 
sink  at  last  in  vast  ruin  and  heart-brokenness.  And 
Esau  teaches  us  how  the  best  instincts  of  life  may  be 
sacrificed  to  appetite,  how  fife  may  be  wasted,  how 
its  natural  nobility  may  be  debased,  how  the  bitter 
** afterward"  of  old  age  may  close  amid  vain  regrets 
and  impotent  repentance  :  "  For  we  know  how  after- 
ward, when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he 
was  rejected." 

Let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  actors  and  the  scene. 
The  narrative  is  singularly  exact  and  vivid,  and  is 
full  of  dramatic  intensity.  In  the  first  scene  we  have 
the  hungry  hunter  coming  in  from  a  hard  day's  chase 
upon  the  mountains,  almost  dying  with  exhaustion, 
and  the  crafty  supplanter,  quick  to  see  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  unscrupub  us  to  press  it  home  to  the 
utmost.  The  fragrance  of  the  pottage  is  a  maddening 
incitement  to  the  sensual  appetite  of  Esau,  and  Esau's 
weakness  is  Jacob's  opportunity.  "And  Jacob  said, 
Sell  me  this  day  thy  birthright.  And  Esau  said. 
Behold  I  am  at  the  point  to  die,  and  what  profit 
shall  this  birthright  do  to  me?"  Can  we  not  read 
tne  orccess  of  thousht  in  Esau's  mind  ?     ''The  birth- 


124  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


right,  what  good  was  it  ?  It  means  no  more  money, 
or  cattle,  or  land.  It  means  only  the  barren  honour 
of  being  priest,  chaplain  to  the  famil}^  Jacob  would 
make  a  better  chaplain  than  I.  Wh?t  I  want  is 
pottage,  not  priesthood.  Tangible  food  is  better  to  a 
hungry  man  than  the  invisible  possessions  of  honour." 
So  he  ate  the  pottage,  wondering  in  his  heart  what 
Jacob  could  see  in  the  birthright  that  was  worth  so 
much  envious  diplomacy,  and  how  any  man  could  stoop 
to  so  mean  a  trick  to  gain  his  ambitious  ends.  He 
felt  something  of  the  clumsy  man's  impotence  in  the 
presence  of  a  subtler  intellect,  and  something  of  the 
strong  man's  brusque  contempt  for  intellectual  motives 
he  could  not  understand.  He  felt  also  the  strong 
man's  healthy  scorn  for  meanness ;  he  was  outwitted, 
and,  says  the  record,  "  he  despised  Jacob."  So  do  we. 
Our  sympathy  goes  inevitably  with  the  wronged  man, 
and  if  we  censure  the  man  who  so  flippantly  bartered 
his  birthright,  it  is  clear  we  cannot  admire  the  man 
who  practically  stole  it. 

To  compare  the  characters  of  Jacob  and  Esau  in 
a  sentence  is  difficult,  but  the  contrast  is  instantly 
apparent.  Let  me  use  an  illustration.  You  have  seen 
a  morning  of  pure  and  perfect  radiance,  passing  at 
noon  into  a  black  turbulence  of  wind  or  tempest,  or 
a  haze  of  dull  and  heavy  gloom.  This  is  a  transcript 
of  the  life  of  Esau.  You  have  also  seen  the  troubled 
day  breakiig  through  thick  mists,  and  you  have 
watched,  with  almost  eager  interest,  the  sun  battling  his 
way  through  heavy  masses  of  clouds,  shining  feebly 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  125 


at  first  in  faint  victory,  but  at  last  going  down  in  full 
and  peaceful  glory.  Such  is  the  life  of  Jacob.  Jacob 
was  a  man  full  of  faults,  and  among  them  were  con- 
spicuous those  least  easily  forgiven,  namely,  faults 
of  meanness.  We  most  of  us  feel  we  would  rather 
receive  a  sound  blow  than  an  underhand  thrust,  and 
Jacob  was  expert  in  underhand  tricks.  For  this 
chapter  of  his  history  there  is  neither  defence  nor 
excuse,  and  do  not  let  us  suppose  God  approved  it. 
On  the  contrary,  God  measured  out  upon  him  instant 
and  terrible  retribution.  He  became  a  fugitive  and 
an  outlaw,  for  twenty  years  he  toiled  in  weary  exile, 
he  never  saw  his  mother's  face  again,  and  when  he 
came  back  purified  and  pardoned,  the  shadow  of  his 
old  sin  met  him  on  the  threshold  of  the  land  he  loved, 
and  turned  his  triumph  into  terror,  and  his  joy  into 
bitterness.  But  the  great  thing  we  notice  about  Jacob 
is  that  his  character  grew  in  strength  and  dignity  :  he 
learned  the  bitter  wisdom  which  is  taught  by  error, 
and  rose  on  stepping-stones  of  his  dead  self  to  higher 
things. 

Esau's,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  very  character  most 
men  impulsively  admire.  He  was  free,  frank,  and 
generous,  and  we  feel  there  was  about  him  a  certain 
nobility  and  sturdy  grace.  He  brings  the  free  air  of 
the  mountains  with  him,  a  wholesome  atmosphere  of 
honesty  and  manliness.  But  he  was  essentially  an  un- 
spiritual  man,  in  whom  the  finer  instincts  are  gradually 
dulled  and  obhterated.  He  despises  the  religious  faith 
which  alone  could  give  him   the  one  element  of  true 


126  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


Stability,  the  note  of  noble  character  which  he  lacked, 
and  so  gradually  he  degenerates  into  the  free  wild  man, 
the  strong  hunter,  the  trained  athlete,  the  splendid 
savage.  There  are  many  such  men  in  our  midst  to- 
day, men  for  whom  the  culture  of  the  body  is  every- 
thing, and  the  culture  of  the  intellect  and  spirit  nothing. 
There  is  a  sort  of  sensuous  pagan  delight  in  bodily 
strength  and  prowess  still  alive  and  active  in  the 
world,  and  the  natural  man  despises  the  spiritual  man. 
But  with  Esau  what  happens  ?  At  length  the  body 
and  its  appetites  become  supreme  with  him,  and  so  the 
sun  passes  into  thick  gloom,  and  the  character  other- 
wise so  admirable  is  wrecked.  In  E-^au  we  watch  the 
slow  debasement  of  character,  in  Jacob  its  gradual 
purification  and  ledemption. 

The  second  scene  of  the  dying  Isaac,  half-incredulous 
befoie  the  deceit  of  Jacob,  the  triple  lie  of  the  sup- 
planter,  "  I  am  Esau,  thy  first-born,"  and  then  the 
exceeding  bitter  cry  of  Esau,  "  Bless  me,  even  me  also, 
O  my  fall.er,"  wh^n  the  blessing  has  gone  f  oin  him 
beyond  retrieval,  is  one  of  the  most  pathetic  in  the 
literature  of  the  world.  That  exceeding  bitter  cry  of 
Esau  rings  along  the  centuries,  and  still  sets  the  heart 
vibrating  with  genuine  pity,  and  that  pity  deepens  into 
scorn  and  loathing  of  the  mother  and  son  who  could 
conspire  in  such  a  plot.  It  is  true  that  having  bought 
the  birthright,  the  blessing  had  become  Jacob's,  but 
there  was  a  manly  way  of  claiming  it,  and  a  treacherous 
way  of  stealing  it,  and  Jacob,  always  physically  a 
coward,    naturally    preferred    adroitness    to   straight- 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU  127 


forwardness.  But  the  first  thing  to  remember  is  that 
no  adroitness  of  temptation  on  Jacob's  part  can  be 
accepted  as  any  sufficient  excuse  for  the  irreverence 
and  weakness  of  Esau.  When  Esau  sold  the  birthright 
he  was  undoubtedly  the  victim  of  a  strong  temptation. 
It  came  upon  him  unawares,  his  great  hunger  pleaded 
with  him,  every  languid  pulse  turned  devil's  advocate ; 
but,  nevertheless,  only  a  morally  weak  man  could  have 
acted  as  Esau  did.  There  was  plenty  of  food  in  the 
world,  and  a  noble  man  would  rather  have  starved 
than  have  purchased  food  at  such  a  price.  But  we 
are  all  clever  at  shifting  responsibility,  and  are  readily 
persuaded  that  we  are  to  be  pitied  rather  than  blamed. 
We  can  always  find  a  convenient  Jacob  upon  whom  the 
real  fault  of  our  wrong-doing  should  be  visited  :  It 
was  the  serpent  tempted  us,  it  was  the  occasion,  it 
was  some  horrible  concatenation  of  unfortunate  circum- 
stances. The  public-house  had  a  fatal  contiguity  to 
our  craving.  The  wine  was  on  the  table  ;  we  were 
pressed  to  drink  ;  it  was  a  birthday,  a  bridal,  a  holiday ; 
ordinarily  we  are  sober  men,  honest  men,  truthful  men 

so  the  excuses  run,  and  can  be  multiplied  with  facile 

ingenuity.  But  think  you  those  excuses  will  be  ac- 
cepted at  the  Judgment  Day  ?  Nay,  are  they  accepted 
now  ?  Do  they  even  impose  upon  ourselves  ?  Do 
they  pass  current  at  the  bar  of  our  own  conscience  ? 
Brethren,  the  blame  of  all  wrong-doing  rests  alone  with 
the  wrong-doer.  I  would  say  no  harsh  word  against 
the  man  who  is  overtaken  in  a  fault.  I  know  well  how 
true  are  those  lines  of  Burns : — 


128  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

"Who  made  the  heart,  'tis  He  alone 
Decidedly  can  try  us; 
He  knows  each  chord,  each  different  ton^ 
Each  spring,  each  various  bias. 

"And  at  the  balance  we  are  mute, 
We  never  can  adjust  it ; 
What's  done' we  partly  may  compute; 
We  know  no^  what's  resisted." 

But  we  are  the  architects  of  circumstarfce,  not  the 
victims  of  it ;  we  may  defy  it,  we  may  subdue  it,  we 
may  "  breast  the  blows  of  circumstance  and  grapple 
with  our  evil  star."  Admirable  opportunities  of  theft  do 
not  excuse  the  thief,  nor  fatal  glibness  of  speech  the 
liar.  Christ  saw  all  the  glory  of  the  world  pass  before 
Him,  and  yet  uttered  no  little,  half-whispered  word  of 
hesitating  allegiance  to  evil.  No ;  a  man  is  not  the 
creature  of  circumstance,  but  the  master  of  it ;  and  if  a 
man  be  a  drunkard,  a  glutton,  a  profligate,  it  is  not  his 
opportunities  of  doing  evil  which  will  absolve  him,  for 
a  thousand  have  walked  the  same  path,  and  have  walked 
it  unseduced.  "  Esau  despised  Jacob  : "  a  man  with  a 
more  sensitive  conscience  would  have  despised  himself. 

"^  fornicator  or  profane  person:"  the  words  sound 
unnecessarily  hard  and  bitter,  do  they  not  ?  ^*  Forni- 
cator " — terrible,  damning  word,  burning  like  a  drop  of 
corrosive  acid  into  the  fair  page  of  history,  and  leaving 
its  indelible  stigma  on  name  and  character  !  "  A  profane 
person, '  a  godless  and  God-forgetting  man,  literally  a 
man  outside  the  temple,  cast  out  from  holiness,  excom- 
municated from  the  sweetest  and  tenderest  sanctities 
of  life  !     What  has  this  man  done  to  deserve  suf  b  an 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU,  129 

overwhelming  verdict  of  reproach  ?  He  had  preferred 
appetite  to  God's  favour,  the  sensual  to  the  spiritual ; 
that  was  the  sin  of  Esau.  He  did  what  every  drunkard 
does  who  sells  himself  to  the  bewitchment  and  exhilara- 
tion of  the  winecup,  who  parts  v\ith  name  and  honour, 
fair  fame  and  friends,  for  the  frenzy  of  an  hour,  who 
sinks  at  last  into  the  cunning  maniac,  who  will  cheat 
the  sentries  of  the  most  vigilant  love,  and  in  one  fierce 
bid  will  sell  body  and  soul  together  for  the  gratification 
of  the  horrible  appetite  which  has  mastered  him.  He 
did  what  every  man  does  who  gives  the  rein  to  his  pas- 
sions, and  finds  his  highest  pleasures  in  the  sensations 
and  desires  of  the  flesh.  He  did  what  every  man  does 
who  derides  or  neglects  the  spiritual  verities  which 
environ  human  life,  who  appraises  religion  with  cheap 
scorn,  and,  refusing  to  sec  the  miracle  and  mercy  of 
God,  tacitly  agrees  to  dismiss  religion  as  a  dream  of 
fools  and  women.  He  did  what  every  man  does  who 
makes  it  his  supreme  ambition  to  secure  the  savoury 
messes  of  wealth  and  posit'on  which  the  wo:  Id  can 
offer  him,  and  whose  enjoyments  are  the  plens  ires  of 
the  man  who  is  little  better  than  a  S|  leridid  human 
animal.  It  is  thus  that  the  sin  of  Esau  must  be  mea- 
sured. To  be  the  firstborn,  according  to  the  standards 
of  his  time,  v.  as  a  man's  highest  inheritance,  and  Esau 
flung  it  from  him  in  contemptuous  indifference.  To 
leprerent  his  family,  and  to  do  it  nobly,  is  an  ambition 
we  can  share  and  undei stand  ;  but  Esau  had  no  inter- 
est in  anything  beyond  the  passing  mom.ent.  What 
was    better   than    that   a    man    should    rejoice   in   his 

9 


150  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


Strength,  and  have  phasure  in  the  full  passion  and 
vigour  of  his  days  ?  To  take  up  the  sacred  burden  of 
chieftainship  v^^hen  Isaac  was  gone,  and  to  bear  it 
nobly,  v^ras  an  honourable  ambition ;  but  Esau  w^as 
essentially  an  unspiritual  man,  and  could  scoff  at 
honours  other  men  and  better  men  estimated  at  a 
priceless  worth.  The  rejection  of  the  birthright  looks 
a  small  thing ;  but  it  was  not  so  ;  it  was  casting  God's 
gift  back  in  His  teeth  ;  and,  hard  as  the  words  of  Paul 
are,  yet  they  are  true.  It  is  as  though  a  ray  of  white 
light  out  of  eternity  lit  up  the  scene  and  revealed  it  in 
its  true  significance  ;  it  is  as  though  the  heavens  opened 
above  these  two  men,  and  in  their  depths  we  saw  all 
the  elder  brothers  of  the  race  gazing  down  with  sorrow- 
ful resentment  and  amazement  on  this  despiser  of  his 
birthright,  who  is  a  fornicator  and  a  profane  person. 
For  profanity  is  not  swearing  only  ;  it  is  an  attitude  of 
mind,  and  there  is  an  irreverence  of  the  heart  as  well 
as  of  the  lip.  Fornication  is  not  one  form  of  sin 
merely;  it  is  the  type  of  all  those  gross  lusts  of  the 
flesh  which  obscure  and  finally  choke  the  spirit.  You 
a  fornicator !  You  shrink  from  the  foul  word  as  from  a 
blow.  Ay,  but  you  eat,  drink,  and  are  merry,  and 
appetite  is  the  law  of  Hfe,  and  the  pleasures  of  appetite 
your  supreme  passion.  You  profane  !  Not  in  spoken 
blasphemy  it  may  be,  but  you  live  only  for  the  seen,  and 
Christ  calls  you  from  the  Cross,  yet  you  will  not  even 
turn  your  head  to  listen.  You  have  not  struck  the 
C  irist,  nor  spat  upon  Him,  nor  wagged  the  head  against 
Him  ;  but  this  is  your  profanity,  that  you  have  cruci- 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  131 


fied  Him  afresh  by  your  neglect,  and  put  Him  to  an 
open  shame  by  your  contempt. 

'*  Who  for  one  morsel  oj  meat  sold  his  birthright^ 
Oh,  what  horrible  disproportion  is  there  here  !  What 
Divine  scorn  breathes  in  the  words !  How  they  scathe 
the  fool,  and  reveal  the  vastness  of  his  felly  !  How 
they  show  the  blind  idiocy  with  which  men  who  sin 
forget  the  just  proportion  between  the  means  and  the 
end  !  For  a  morsel  of  meat !  Yet  have  we  not  known 
that  fatal  bargain  struck  ?  We  smile  at  the  mediaeval 
legends  of  men  selling  their  souls  to  the  devil,  but 
morally  they  are  true.  I  have  seen  men  sell  their 
reverence  to  win  the  laughter  of  fools — the  imbecile 
applause  of  men  whose  only  idea  of  wit  is  profanity  or 
indecency.  I  have  seen  men  sell  their  ease  of  conscience 
to  secure  a  moment's  immunity  from  duty,  or  their  purity 
for  the  fierce  devouring  pleasure,  or  worse,  for  the  cold 
and  calculated  licence  of  a  moment's  guilty  passion. 
Every  police-court  illustrates  for  how  paltry  and  uncer- 
tain a  reward  men  will  risk  their  liberties  and  lives. 
There  are  thousands  on  the  pavement  of  this  wicked 
city,  thousands  in  the  offices  and  behind  the  counters, 
some  even  in  the  pulpit,  w..o  for  one  morsel  of  meat  have 
sold  their  birthright.  They  have  sold  their  best  aspira- 
tions, their  spiritual  honesty,  their  intellectual  freedom  ; 
they  have  pawned  the  heavenly  raiment  of  the  spirit, 
and  cast  away  the  wealth  of  noble  feelings  and  divine 
desires,  and  have  hardened  themselves  into  a  routine 
of  avarice,  or  empty  pleasure,  or  cowardly  time-servnig. 
And  for  what  ?     Ask  that  when  the  lights  of  file  burn 


132  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MAAHOOD, 

dim  and  the  feast  is  over,  and  the  clear  white  light  of 
the  last  dawn  breaks  in  upon  the  disordered  hfe.  Ask 
that  when  you  sit — which  may  God  forbid — a  grey- 
haired  man  whose  mind  is  but  a  charnel-house  of  evil 
memories,  where  bad  thoughts  stir  and  writhe  like 
serpents  in  the  dark,  and  remorse  utters  its  perpetual 
wail.  Ask  that  when  the  first  chill  drop  of  the  death- 
water  laps  the  feet,  and  rises  higher  and  higher  to 
the  lip  !  For  what  ?  A  morsel  of  meat,  a  sop  thrown  to 
the  insatiable  wolves  of  passion,  a  brief  joy  long  since 
turned  to  the  dust  and  bitterness  of  sad  remembrance; 
and  that  is  the  devil's  wages  !  Truly,  the  words  of 
Christ  touch  us  here  again  :  "What  shall  it  profit  a  man 
if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  " 

So  then,  the  root  of  Esau's  sin  was  his  scorn  for  the 
spiritual  side  of  life;  and  is  not  that  precisely  the 
crying  sin  of  our  modern  life  ?  It  is  not  that  you 
dislike  rehgion ;  you  have  not  sufficient  interest  to 
be  hostile,  and  you  are,  therefore,  simply  indifferent. 
It  is  not  that  you  disbelieve  religion;  you  quietly 
dismiss  the  whole  subject,  so  that  God  is  not  found 
in  your  thoughts.  There  are  so  many  things  to  do ; 
the  campaign  of  daily  business  absorbs  you  as  the 
eagerness  of  the  chase  absorbed  Esau,  you  hold  fast 
to  the  tangible  realities  of  Hfe,  you  desire  the  vivid 
and  actual  pleasures  of  the  present,  and  so  the  soul  is 
starved  out  of  you,  and  the  vision  of  God  withdraws 
itself  because  the  suiface  of  your  life  has  beco.ne  too 
obscure  to  reflect  it,  and  there  is  developed  only  the 
animal   man,   in  whom    the    spiritual  sense,   the    large 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU,  133 


hopes,  the  diviner  aspirations,  are  shrunken  into 
pitiable  infirmity  and  impotence.  Oh,  how  true  is  this 
of  thousands,  how  true  of  some  of  us  !  At  first 
heedlessly,  in  mere  lightheartedness ;  at  first  almost 
unconsciously,  but  at  last  positively,  you  have  dis- 
missed God  from  your  knowledge  and  turned  your 
back  on  the  spiritual  side  of  things.  But  that  spiritual 
side  of  fife  is  still  there  ;  the  grave  is  there  with  its 
mystery,  and  the  future  with  its  recompense  ;  and  the 
time  will  come — it  may  come  soon — when  those  dis- 
regarded spiritual  forces  in  life  will  reveal  themselves 
in  appalling  omnipotence  as  they  did  to  Esau,  and  the 
cry  with  which  you  will  meet  them  will  only  be  an 
exceeding  bitter  cry  of  infinite  regret,  of  late  but 
irremediable  remorse. 

It  seems  to  me  that  the  sin  of  Esau  was  essentially 
a  young  man's  sin.  It  was  the  thoughtless  repudia- 
tion of  spiritual  opportunities  by  a  nature  which  had 
never  tasted  the  bitter  waters  of  suffering,  a  nature 
whose  mere  animal  vigour  had  blunted  the  edge  of  its 
finer  sympathies.  To  many  a  young  man  the  home, 
unhappily,  becomes  irksome,  and  the  restraint  of  its 
pieties  and  traditions  unbearable.  In  his  insolence 
of  strength  he  has  small  patience  with  the  slower  feet 
of  age ;  in  his  buoyancy  of  spirit  he  has  little  care  for 
the  sadder  thoughts  of  parents  ;  in  the  eagerness  of  his 
keen  zest  for  the  pleasures  of  life  he  forgets  the  sacred- 
ness  of  the  ties  which  bind  him  to  the  home  of  his 
birth.  Like  a  callow  bird,  no  sooner  is  the  wing 
strong  than  he  is  eager  to  leave  the  nest,  and  try  his 


134  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


Strength  in  the  boundless  blue  of  the  free  heavens, 
and  his  own  selfish  joy  in  life  blinds  him  to  the  more 
sacred  instincts  which  attach  an  eternal  reverence  to 
the  mother  who  bore  him,  and  the  father  who  trained 
his  life  when  it  was  feeble  and  sheltered  it  when  it 
was  weak.  He  *' hears  the  days  before  him,  and  the 
tumult  of  his  life."  He  longs  for  freedom,  and  the 
sense  of  being  his  own  master  is  an  intoxicating  joy. 
He  will  claim  his  portion,  and  go  into  a  far  country 
where  the  reproving  eye  can  never  follow  him,  and  the 
burden  of  family  responsibility  be  never  reimposed. 
So  the  very  buoyancy  of  youth  becomes  a  snare,  the 
very  energy  of  manhood  a  means  of  ill,  and  not  till 
the  hour  come  when  the  strong  man  is  called  back  to 
the  home  of  his  childhood  by  the  sudden  advent  of 
death  does  he  see  his  error,  and  pour  out  his  heart  in 
the  bitterness  of  the  cry,  "  Hast  thou  no  blessing  for 
me  ?     Bless  me,  even  me  also,  O  my  father  !  " 

You  will  notice,  once  more,  how  the  discovery  of  his 
loss  came  finally  to  Esau.  "  Ye  know  how  that  after- 
ward, when  he  would  have  inherited  the  blessing,  he 
was  rejected  ;  for  he  found  no  place  for  repentance  " — 
literally  no  way  to  change  his  mind — "  though  he  sought 
it  carefully  with  tears"  His  desire  changed,  but 
his  environment  was  fixed ;  he  changed  his  mind,  in 
our  sense  of  the  phrase,  but  he  could  not  change  his 
condition. 

That  discovery  of  loss  did  not  come  all  at  once. 
The  great,  strong  hunter  went  forth,  and  hunted,  and 
slept,  and  waked  with  the  serene  pulse  of  health,  and 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  135 

what  had  he  lost  ?  The  skies  spread  as  fair  above 
him,  the  mountains  rose  in  the  silence  of  their  beauty 
as  majestically  around  him,  the  blood  leapt  with  all 
the  old  blissful  magic  in  his  veins  as  he  hasted  after 
the  chase,  his  life  went  on  as  of  yore,  and  what  had 
he  lost  ?  If  any  higher  quality  had  passed  out  of  his 
life,  he  had  not  noticed  it ;  it  had  passed  like  an  un- 
regarded shadow,  and  the  sunlight  seemed  undimmed. 
And  then  at  last  there  came  that  awful  day,  when 
his  heart  was  broken  in  him,  and  the  great  judgment 
fell  upon  him,  and  the  exceeding  bitter  cry  rang  out, 
praying  for  that  which  he  had  cast  away,  wailing  in 
fruitless  agony  for  opportunities  for  ever  squandered, 
•'Bless  me,  even  me  also,  O  my  father."  Afterward. 
It  is  the  saddest  word  in  human  life.  The  irrevocable 
and  irretrievable  sob  through  its  pathetic  chords.  It 
is  a  cry  after  the  scorned  angel  who  vanishes,  the 
lost  good  we  threw  away,  the  better  part  we  did  not 
choose.  O  young  man  !  you  did  not  mean  to  break 
your  mother's  heart;  you  did  not  mean  to  fill  her 
faded  eyes  with  tears,  and  make  her  last  thoughts  of 
you  sad  and  anxious  thoughts  :  you  only  forgot  to  be 
regardful  of  her,  you  only  spoke  lightly  ind  flippantly 
of  the  things  she  loved  most,  and  we  krow  how  that 
afteimjardy  when  the  fatal  telegram  found  you  in  your 
folly,  and  you  rushed  home  only  to  find  the  ears  for 
ever  closed  to  your  late  words  of  tenderness,  oh,  we 
know  how  you  would  have  given  worlds  then  to  have 
said  the  things  you  never  said,  and  to  have  unsaid 
what  you  said  !     Oh,  older  man,  you  never  meant  to 


136  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 

throw  the  chances  of  life  away  ;  you  were  only  vain 
and   reckless      you    only   chose    doubtful    companion- 
ships and  let  the  years  go  by  in  emptiness  of  purpose 
and  carelessness  of  good,  and   we   know  how  to-day 
you  would  give  all  you  have  to  be  a  youth  again,  and 
start   life  as  you  once   meant  to  start,  when  you   left 
home   a    bright   lad    to   seek  your  fortune   in   a  great 
city  !     It  is  afterward — when  the  slight  chain  of  habit, 
once  a  mere   thread   of  gossamer,  has   hardened   into 
links  of  adamant ;  when  the  evil   that   once   wore  so 
fair  a  face  has  dropped  the  mask,  and  risen  up  a  foul 
and   hideous  creature   to    subdue   and    slay   us;  wh :n 
we  become  conscious  for  the  first  time  that  we  have 
thrown  away  that  which  was  best  worth  having,  and 
have   done  that   which  cannot   be   undone — it  is  then 
that  the  sense  of  infinite  consequences  following  trivial 
deflections  from  the  right,  or  what  we  foolishly  thought 
trivial  deflections,  weighs  upon  us,  and  the  exceeding 
bitter  cry  sobs    like  a  restless   ghost   through   every 
chamber  of  our  life.     There  are  shining  doors  of  op- 
portunity daily  opened  on  us  ;  there  are  fair  and  noble 
chances  which  meet  us  with  each  day's  new  dawning  ; 
and  because  we  use  them  not,  at  last  the  bitter  weeping 
waits  us  in  the  years  which  have  no  light.     We  create 
not  only  difficulties  for  ourselves,  but  impossibiHties, 
not  merely  entanglements,  but  reversions  of  unspeak- 
able remorse;   and  then  when   the   knowledge  of  our 
folly  rushes  on  us,  we  cry,   ''Oh,   if  I   only  had;  if 
I  only  had  not ; "  but  the  great  doors  of  opportunity 
are   barred  and   bolted,  and  it  is  too  late.     It  might 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU.  137 


have  been !  Words  of  ineffable  mournfulness,  but 
daily  uttered!  Words  that  sweep  across  the  bright 
fields  rf  life  like  a  bitter  wind,  or  like  a  low  sigh 
pregnant  with  the  agony  of  a  million  dying  lips  !  How 
many  men  and  women,  in  those  brief  but  terrible 
moments  when  the  mistakes  of  life  reveal  themselves 
in  all  the  significance  of  their  meaning  and  result,  have 
uttered  that  low  cry  with  streaming  eyes  and  breaking 
heart,  "  It  might  have  been  ! "  All  the  ruined  possi- 
bilities of  the  past  reveal  themselves,  all  the  blooms 
of  nobleness  that  had  no  fruitage,  all  the  diviner 
desires  that  reached  no  achievement,  and  they  see  them 
with  piercing  clearness  for  one  moment,  as  Esau  saw 
them  when  he  bowed  over  his  fatlier's  dying  lips ; 
and  then 

"They  take  up  the  burden  of  Hfe  again, 
Saying  only,  It   might  have  been  ! 
God  pity  them,   and   pity  us  all 
"Who  vainly  the  dreams  of  youth  recall. 
For  of  all  sad  words  of  tongue  or  pen. 
The  saddest  are  these,  It  might  have  been  I " 

Brethren,  ye  know  how  that  afterward  when  Esau 
would  have  changed  his  mind,  he  col  Id  not  change 
his  environmxent,  and  when  he  would  have  inherited 
the  blessing  he  was  rejected. 

But  is  it  true  that  a  man  may  repent  and  find  no 
place  for  repentance?  Only  in  this  sense,  that  he 
may  change  his  mind  but  cannot  escape  the  conse- 
quences of  his  folly  :  that  there  are  things  lost  which 
can  never  be  recalled. 


138  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 


But  all  was  not  lost  for  Esau  :  all  ts  not  lost  for  you. 
The  birthright,  and  the  elder  brother's  blessing,  these 
were  indeed  gone,  and  gone  beyond  recalling.  But 
there  was  the  lesser  blessing  left,  there  was  the  promise 
that  after  long  years  of  servitude  Esau  should  break 
the  yoke  and  have  dominion—  and  was  this  nothing  ? 
A  ^'  sorrow's  crown  of  sorrow  is  remembering  happier 
things,"  but  hope  turns  from  the  desolated  past,  and 
discerns  the  bright  shapes  that  advance  towards  us 
from  the  future.  Much  is  lost,  my  brother,  but  much 
is  left  also.  You  cannot  get  the  past  back,  but  you 
have  the  present  and  the  future.  You  cannot  know 
again  the  child's  bright  innocence  of  heart,  but  the 
blood  of  Jesus  cleanse th  from  all  sin.  You  cannot 
be  as  though  the  fire  had  never  scarred  you,  but  you 
may  come  out  of  the  searching  flame  purified.  You 
are  not  what  you  might  have  been,  but  you  may  be 
so  much  more  than  you  are. 

'*  *  O  that  it  were  possible,  after  long  grief  and  pain,' 

to  recover  our  lost  happiness,"  cries  one  of  the  sad 
voices  of  our  time,  and  that  cannot  be.  But  there 
is  a  deeper  and  a  truer  happiness  that  may  yet  be 
won ;  the  long  storm  may  roll  away  and  leave  the 
heavens  bright;  the  thick  darkness  may  lift,  and  a 
better  than  youth's  morning  glory  fall  upon  you,  and 
out  of  our  very  follies  themselves  we  may  build  those 
sharp  stairs  of  expiation  on  which  we  shall  chmb 
slowly  to  the  skies.  It  is  the  lost  Christ  came  to  save, 
it  is  out  of  the  life  that  seems  ruined  He  builds  the 


THE  SIN  OF  ESAU,  139 

new  and  nobler  nature.  Do  you  remember  that  touch- 
ing story  Gough  tells  of  himself — how  once  he  lay 
brutalised  and  insensible  with  drink  in  the  gutter, 
with  the  full  sun  of  summer  pouring  down  on  his 
unsheltered  face  ?  Many  persons  passed  him  in  the 
public  way,  and  doubtless  turned  with  shuddering 
contempt  from  so  foul  a  sight.  If  ever  any  man 
looked  helplessly  lost  and  ruined  it  must  have  been 
Gough,  as  he  lay  like  a  hog  in  the  gutter  that  day. 
But  at  length  there  drew  near  him  a  woman  with  a 
Christlike  heart  in  her,  and  she  pitied  him.  She  could 
not  lift  him  to  his  feet,  it  was  useless  to  address  him, 
so  what  did  she  do  ?  She  noted  how  the  sun  beat 
perilously  on  the  bloated  face,  and  taking  out  her 
handkerchief  she  gently  laid  it  on  that  face,  and  went 
away.  Presently  Gough  woke.  He  felt  the  handker- 
chief, and  began  to  ask  how  it  got  the/e.  At  last  it 
dawned  upon  him  that  some  true  heart  had  pitied 
him,  and  he  said  to  himself — "  I  am  deep  enough  down, 
God  knows ;  but  some  one  has  thought  me  worth 
pitying,  and  if  I  am  worth  pitying  I  am  worth  saving  !  " 
It  was  the  turning-point  of  Gough's  life ;  he  began  to 
hope,  he  began  to  think  all  was  not  lost.  I  bid  you 
hope,  my  brother.  All  is  not  lost,  and  never  can  be, 
while  Christ  remains.  And  this  is  Christ's  gospel  of 
good  news. 

And  this  is  also  Christ's  consistent  view  of  humanity. 
Harlots,  publicans,  usurers,  taxgatherers,  the  poor, 
soiled,  sinful  masses  of  men  and  women  who  have 
failed — so  weak,  so  cursed  with  shameful  follies,  dwell- 


140  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD 

ing  some  of  them  in  the  very  scorch  of  hell,  and  with 
the  smell  of  fire  upon  them — yet  they  are  not  beyond 
retrieving,  they  are  not  outcast  from  the  Divine  love, 
Oh,  no !  How  can  that  be,  so  long  as  we  know  that 
Christ  came  to  seek  and  save  the  lost,  so  long  as  His 
words  remain — "  Him  that  cometh  unto  Me  I  will  in 
nowise  cast  out  I ' 


VIII. 

SJJVS    OF  SILENCE. 

"  And  if  a  soul  sin  and  hear  the  voice  of  swearing,  and  is  a  witness 
whether  he  1  ath  seen  or  known  of  it  :  if  he  do  not  utter  it,  then  he 
shall  btar  his  iniquity."— Lev.  v   I. 


V 


LRY  probably  the  casual  reader  of  the  Scriptures 
has  often  £sked,  What  is  the  true  sigiiificaace  of 
this  Book  of  Leviticus  ?  It  seems  dry,  eftete,  obsolete. 
The  minuteness  of  its  details  appears  tedious  and  even 
offensive ;  its  unfaltering  inquisition  over  the  most 
secret  realms  of  human  life  strikes  upon  our  modern 
sense  as  something  painful  and  repulsive.  There  is 
nothing  which  escapes  the  searching  scrutiny  of  the 
Mosaic  law  ;  it  legislates  for  the  lips  and  for  the  eye, 
for  the  appetites  and  for  the  senses,  for  the  raiment 
and  for  the  body,  for  wives  and  children,  for  masters 
and  servants,  for  the  sowing  of  the  grain  and  the 
reaping  of  the  harvest,  for  disease  and  health,  for  life 
and  death.  Its  ''Thou  shalt  not"  peals  like  the 
thunder  of  Sinai,  or  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  which 
waxed  exceeding  loud,  everywhere  over  the  crowded 
plains  of  human  life ;  its  iron  hand  strikes  heavily  at 
ail  points  on  the  slightest  disobedience.  It  is  rigid, 
exact,  inflexible  ;  it  demands  absolute  obedience  in  every 
jot  and  tittle.     Well,  what  does  it  all  mean  ?     Why  do 


142  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


we  read  it  in  the  Christian  sanctuaries  of  the  nine- 
teenth century?  Has  not  the  world  moved  onward 
into  a  larger  liberty  in  the  three  thousand  years  since 
it  was  written  ?  Have  the  books  of  the  Mosaic  law 
in  fact  any  real  significance  for  the  men  of  to-day  ? 
They  have,  and  a  most  profound  significance  too. 
The  spiritual  truth  underlying  the  Mosaic  law  is  that 
man  is  under  the  direct  eye  of  God,  and  his  life  is, 
therefore,  hfted  into  direct  responsibiHty  to  God.  God 
sees  us,  and  God  sees  everything  about  us  and  within 
us.  Sins  of  silence  and  secrecy,  sins  of  public  error 
and  notoriety,  which  go  before  a  man  to  judgment,  are 
alike  open  and  naked  to  Him  with  whom  we  have  to 
do.  Space  cannot  shelter  us ;  if  we  take  the  wings  of 
the  morning  and  fly  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth, 
He  is  there.  Immensity  cannot  shield  us;  if  we  could 
sink  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,  behold  the  beams  of 
His  chambers  are  laid  in  the  water-floods,  and  on  the 
uttermost  verges  of  creation  He  still  confronts  us. 
i  arkness  cannot  cover  us,  for  behold  the  darkness 
and  the  light  are  both  alike  to  Him.  Moses  taught  that 
the  fife  of  the  meanest  man  fulfilled  itself  under  the 
open  eye  of  heaven,  and  that  God  knew  his  downsitting 
and  his  uprising,  the  words  whispered  in  the  ear  of 
solitude,  and  the  secret  vibrations  of  the  impulse,  which 
was  scarcely  registered  even  on  the  dial  of  the  will. 
He  was  no  mere  atom  in  the  human  ant-hill,  no 
insignificant  unit  of  humanity  lost  in  the  vast  ebb  and 
flow  of  universal  fife,  for  insignificance  is  impossible 
to  man,  and  obscurity  is  denied  him.     He  was  a  person, 


S/NS   OF  SILENCE  143 


active,  powerful,  working  woe  or  weal  to  others ;  and 
just  as  the  calling  of  a  man's  voice,  or  the  footfall  of 
a  child's  step,  stir  the  waves  of  sound  which  travel 
onward  and  ever  onward,  till  they  may  be  said  to  break 
upon  the  shores  of  the  furthest  stars,  so  the  influences 
of  a  man's  life  were  boundless.  His  little  part  was 
acted  out  before  God  and  all  the  angels,  his  whispers 
travelled  through  eternity,  his  footsteps  echoed  through 
the  chambers  of  the  Most  High.  That  was  the  view 
of  human  life  which  Moses  took,  and  he  lived  as 
''seeing  Him  who  is  invisible."  That  was  the  view 
of  life  which  he  taught  in  all  the  ramifications  of  his 
law, — that  all  human  hfe,  in  its  every  department,  lies 
under  tribute  to  God,  and  that  the  motto  for  all  true 
dignity  and  purity  of  life  is,  "  Thou  God  seest  me." 

This  passage  which  we  are  about  to  consider  is  a 
striking  illustration  of  these  principles.  It  recognises 
that  sin  may  lie  in  silence  as  in  speech,  that  to  hear 
the  word  of  swearing  and  not  rebuke  it  is  to  share 
the  guilt  of  it ;  that  men  are  responsible  to  each  other 
because  they  are  responsible  to  God.  There  can  be  no 
lesson  of  greater  service  to  the  young  men  of  our  day 
than  this.  And  why  ?  Because  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  tendency  of  modern  civilisation  is  on  the  one  hand 
to  exaggerate  the  liberty  of  individuality,  and  on  the 
other  hand  to  lessen  the  duty  of  responsibility.  Man 
has  become  the  great  study  of  man,  and  is  to-day  the 
centre  of  art,  of  science,  of  literature.  Art  no  longer 
paints  Christ,  but  man ;  literature  probes  the  mystery 
of  his  motives,  and   clothes  with  glowing  phrase  the 


144  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


Story  of  his  love,  his  passion,  and  his  heroism.  Science 
asks  perpetually,  Whence  is  he  ?  and  all  its  profound 
curiosities  and  patient  researches  travel  upwards  to 
the  culminating  curiosity  of  that  great  inquiry,  What 
is  man  ?  It  may  be  said  that  even  Nature  has  been 
obscured  by  the  immense  shadow  projected  across  her 
by  the  personality  of  man.  Man  has  dominated  her, 
and  she  is  made  to  vibrate  to  his  moods,  and  is  inter- 
preted by  lyric  rapture  or  sombre  imaginings  as  he  is 
sad  or  happy.  And  what  is  the  moral  tendency  of  this 
modern  movement  of  thought  ?  It  is  upon  the  whole 
to  exalt  man  and  obscure  God,  to  leave  every  man  to 
become  a  law  unto  himself,  and  to  snap  effectually 
those  delicate  but  Divine  fibres  of  moral  responsibility 
which  bind  man  to  man  and  hold  society  together. 
One  fruit  of  its  influence  is  found,  for  instance,  in  the 
morbid  charity  which  the  wcrld  extends  to  the  faults 
of  men  of  genius,  minifying  their  vices  into  mistakes, 
their  wickedness  into  frailty,  and  their  most  hideous 
immoralities  into  mere  errors  of  judgment.  But  the 
law  of  Moses  knew  no  such  distinctions,  and  neither 
does  the  law  of  Christ.  Theie  Cod  is  first,  God  is 
supreme,  God  is  Master.  High  and  low,  genius  and 
fool,  king  and  beggar,  owe  common  allegiance  to  Him, 
and  He  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  And  you  will  find 
that  the  noblest  periods  of  history  are  the  periods  when 
this  belief  was  most  vigorousl}'  held.  It  was  the  secret 
of  their  moral  dignity  and  victorious  valour.  It  made 
Israel  the  visible  sword  of  God  among  the  corrupt 
heathen  peoples  they  attacked.     It  filled  the  men  of  the 


S/NS   OF  SILENCE.  145 

Reformation  with  the  same  gigantic  energy;  it  made 
the  words  of  Luther  "half-battles;"  it  clothed  Knox 
with  that  mysterious  power  before  which  a  court  quailed 
and  a  kingdom  bowed  obedient.  It  was  the  fiery  force 
which  throbbed  in  the  heart  of  Puritan  England  ;  and 
the  true  secret  of  all  this  moral  energy  which  has  again 
and  again  overturned  kingdoms,  and  driven  back  the 
powers  of  darkness  in  overwhelming  defeat,  while  the 
sun  of  setting  liberty  was  stayed  above  the  nations — 
the  secret  is  that  these  men  felt  and  realised  their 
direct  relation  to  God,  and  acted  on  it.  They  lived 
their  life  with  the  keen  consciousness  that  the  inspect- 
ing eye  of  God  was  always  on  them  :  they  **  lived  ever 
in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye,"  to  quote  Milton's  noble 
phrase.  The  secret  of  fidelity  is  this  consciousness  of 
the  nearness  of  the  Master :  Lo,  God  is  in  this  place  : 
Thou  God  seest  me. 

There  are  three  forces  in  human  life,  the  action  of 
which  is  illustrated  by  this  passage.  The  first  is 
Influence.  What  is  influence  ?  It  is  that  intangible 
personal  atmosphere  which  clothes  every  man,  an 
invisible  belt  of  magnetism,  as  it  were,  which  he 
carries  with  him.  Every  human  being  seems  to 
possess  a  moral  atmosphere  quite  peculiar  to  himself, 
which  invests  and  interprets  him,  and  the  presence 
of  which  others  readily  detect.  For  instance,  a  pure 
woman  carries  a  moral  and  ennobling  atmosphere  with 
her.  She  enters  a  room  where  bad  men,  or  light  and 
foolish  women  are,  where  the  talk  has  been  peril- 
ous if  not  vicious,  low-minded  and  mean-spirited,  or 

10 


146  THE    TlIRESnOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


saturated  with  that  underlying  double-meaning  which 
is  the  first  symptom  of  corruption ;  and  it  is  as  though 
a  garden  of  lilies  suddenly  bloomed  in  the  room.  A 
sort  of  spiritual  fragrance  seems  to  pierce  the  heated 
air ;  her  very  looks  and  garments  exhale  the  odour  of 
purity.  She  brings  the  beauty  of  holiness  with  her, 
and  her  face  seems  to  wear  a  fresh  light,  like  the 
light  upon  the  faces  of  the  young  angels  in  the  pictures 
of  the  old  masters.  There  is  an  ineffable  dignity  of 
goodness  and  sweetness  about  her ;  and  pure  and  quiet 
thoughts  make  an  invisible  music  round  her  as  she 
comes.  The  atmosphere  which  clothes  her  seems  to 
flood  the  room,  and  the  coarse  weeds  of  vicious 
thought  and  talk  cannot  thrive  in  it.  How  magically 
that  loud,  bad  laugh  is  stilled  !  How  instantly  the 
current  of  conversation  is  changed  !  She  has  brought 
hght,  sweetness,  fragrance  with  her ;  she  has  made  all 
that  crowd  of  light,  foolish,  worldly  people  suddenly 
think  of  their  dead  mothers,  their  httle  children,  of  the 
flowers  that  filled  the  woods  when  they  were  young,  of 
the  angels  they  seemed  to  see  in  the  bright  day-dreams 
of  childhood,  of  all  sorts  of  tender  and  pathetic  pas- 
sages in  past  life ;  yet  she  has  not  said  a  word  !  Her 
influence  has  interpreted  her. 

Or  look  on  the  other  side  of  the  illustration.  Picture 
a  type  of  man  but  too  common — the  fast  man  of  society. 
There  is  an  exhalation  of  evil  which  goes  before  him 
and  spreads  around  him.  His  smile  is  fascinating,  his 
speech  is  bright  and  witty,  there  is  no  outward  sign 
of  the  corrupting  foulness  within;   yet  the  pure  feel 


SAVS   OF  SILENCE.  147 


instinctively  that  an  evil  presence  has  drawn  near 
lh(  m,  and  good  women  say,  ^'  We  don't  like  that 
man ! "  We  perhaps  smile  with  a  sense  of  superior 
sagacity  at  what  seems  to  us  the  absurdity  of  a  woman's 
reason,  but  intuition  is  a  fine  weapon,  which  pierces, 
where  the  blunter  edge  of  mere  sagacity  is  useless. 
The  fastidious  instinct  of  a  true  purity  has  instantly 
detected  such  a  man.  There  are  subtle  currents  which 
interpret  him,  a  magnetic  power  of  evil  which  sends 
its  shock  out  silently  to  the  clean-hearted;  and  from 
the  pure-hearted  there  are  delicate  tentacles  of  feeling 
which  stretch  out  invisibly  and  touch  him,  and  shrink 
back  dismayed  with  a  sense  of  wrong.  He  says  nothing, 
but  yet  he  interprets  himself,  and  the  atmosphere  he 
brings  with  him  is  felt  by  all  sensitive  souls  at  once 
to  be  vile  and  dangerous.  That  is  Influence :  some- 
thing subtle,  indefinable,  yet  real;  without  lips,  yet 
speaking ;  without  visible  shape,  yet  acting  with 
tremendous  potency,  like  the  magnetic  forces  which 
throb  and  travel  unseen  around  us,  hidden  in  the  dew- 
drop  and  uttered  in  the  thunder;  Influence,  which 
streams  out  from  every  human  being,  and  shapes 
others,  and  moulds  and  makes  them ;  Influence,  which 
is  stronger  than  action,  more  eloquent  than  speech, 
more  enduring  than  life,  which  being  holy  sows  the 
centuries  with  the  seeds  of  holy  life,  and  being  evil 
multiplies,  indeed,  transgressors  in  the  earth  I 

The  second  force  is  Example.  That  is  something 
more  tangible,  because  it  is  mainly  a  matter  of  words 
and  deeds.     Every  man  sets  a  copy  for  his  neighbour. 


148  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

and  his  neighbour  is  quick  to  reproduce  it.  Words- 
worth speaks  of  the  little  child  from  whom  the  remem- 
bered light  of  other  worlds  is  slowly  wasting  into  the 
light  of  common  day,  as  learning  all  he  knows  of  the 
world  through  the  faculty  of  imitation : 

"The  little  actor  cons  another  part, 
As  though  his  whole  vocation 
Were  endless  imitation." 

But  it  is  not  only  true  of  children ;  all  men  are  born 
actors.  We  often  find  it  ludicrously  true,  do  we  not  ? 
We  catch  the  trick  of  another  man's  thought,  we  echo 
the  intonation  of  his  voice,  we  reproduce  the  idiosyn- 
crasy of  his  manner,  we  copy  the  very  peculiarity  of 
his  gait;  yet  it  is  all  done  with  perfect  unconscious- 
ness on  our  part.  What  is  called  fashion  is  built  upon 
example :  when  a  poet  discards  collars  society  goes 
bare-necked,  and  when  a  princess  limps  society  becomes 
lame.  If  these  were  the  only  illustrations  of  the  opera- 
tion of  this  law  of  imitation  we  might  content  ourselves 
with  a  tolerant  amusement  at  human  folly;  but  when 
imitation  enters  the  world  of  morals  it  becomes  a 
solemn  and  a  tragic  thing.  Then  we  find  that  no 
man  fives  to  himself;  he  could  not  if  he  would.  The 
covetous  man  has  a  miser  for  his  son,  the  light  woman 
has  a  daughter  hastening  towards  the  ways  of  shame, 
the  unclean  man  poisons  a  workshop  with  his  lecherous 
imagination,  the  drunkard  infects  a  whole  neighbour- 
hood with  his  vices,  the  swearer  finds  his  little  child, 
scarce  out  of  babyhood,  uttering  bestial  oaths,  and 
shaping  his  tiny  lips  in  the  blasphemies  which  are  the 


S/NS  OF  SILENCE.  149 

common  speech  of  the  house  in  which  he  Hves.  Who 
knows  how  far  a  word  may  travel  ?  When  it  leaves 
us  it  is  gone  for  ever.  It  has  floated  away  into  the 
blue  heaven  on  wings  of  its  own,  and  we  cannot  recall 
it  if  we  would.  It  has  set  new  thoughts  stirring 
already  in  a  score  of  hearts,  and  will  travel  on  in 
multiplying  influence  till  the  ears  of  men  are  full  of 
it.  Each  man  lives  in  a  huge  whispering  gallery,  and 
his  whispers  travel  round  the  world,  growing  louder 
as  they  go,  till  they  fall  back  upon  him  like  the  rever- 
berations of  distant  thunder.  The  word  spoken  in  the 
ear  is  trumpeted  upon  the  housetop ;  forgotten  by  us, 
it  is  remembered  by  others ;  dismissed  by  us,  it  has 
leapt  into  Hfe  elsewhere ;  and  on  the  threshold  of 
another  world,  where  every  idle  word  is  known,  the 
speech  of  a  Hfetime  rolls  back  upon  the  spiritual  ear. 
Just  as  the  phonograph  treasures  up  the  most  dehcate 
inflexions  of  the  human  voice,  and  can  reproduce  them 
at  the  will  of  the  operator,  so  a  thousand  minds  have 
already  received  the  impression  of  our  words,  and,  if 
they  were  evil,  share  the  iniquity  of  them  with  us. 

And  then,  from  influence  and  example  there  results 
Responsibility.  Do  you  say,  "Am  I  my  brother's 
keeper?"  You  are.  You  cannot  help  yourself  You 
can  as  easily  evade  the  law  of  gravitation  as  the  law 
of  human  responsibility.  If  you  cease  to  speak,  that 
will  not  rid  you  of  the  burden  ;  you  must  cease  to  be 
to  do  that.  Nay,  even  death  itself  is  powerless  to 
destroy  influence.  Often  it  multiplies  it  a  thousand- 
fold.    Death   can   enthrone   a  man    upon    a   coign  of 


ISO  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


vantage  from  which  he  speaks  to  all  the  ages.  The 
poison  of  a  bad  life  goes  on  infecting  uncounted  gene- 
rations, just  as  good  men  from  their  graves  touch  the 
remotest  ages,  and  inspire  the  youth  of  the  most  distant 
centuries  to  faith  and  heroism.  Has  John  Bunyan 
ceased  to  be  a  living  force  in  English  life?  He  speaks 
to-day  from  such  a  pulpit  as  he  never  dreamed  of  in 
his  life,  and  the  w^alls  of  the  cathedral  where  he 
preaches  are  the  immeasurable  horizons  of  the  uni- 
verse, and  his  congregation  is  as  a  multitude  whom 
no  man  can  number.  Is  the  life  of  the  heroes,  the 
patriots,  the  martyrs  really  closed  ?  They  were  never 
so  much  alive  as  now ;  the  fire  that  slew  them  freed 
them,  and  the  steps  of  their  scaffolds  were  the  staircase 
of  immortality.  They  shaped  the  lives  of  others  on  a 
mighty  scale,  but  you  also  do  so,  and  not  so  ins'gni- 
ficantly  as  you  think.  You  speak,  you  think,  you  act ; 
and  every  hour  other  lives  take  colour  and  purpose 
from  yours.  Thus  influence  and  example  bring  with 
them  responsibility  to  God  and  responsibihty  to  man. 
Every  man  is  your  brother,  all  have  claims  upon  you ; 
and  if  you  sin,  and  another  witness  it,  behold  he  shares 
your  iniquity. 

Let  us  mark  further  the  precise  way  in  which  these 
forces  work.  First  it  is  clear  tha.t  personal  sin  always  in- 
volves others.  "  If  a  mi  an  hear  the  voice  of  swearing,"  if 
he  even  knows  of  it,  he  shares  the  complicity  of  the  sin. 
There  is  always  seme  one  who  hears,  who  witnesses, 
who  shares.  Steal  forth,  O  youth,  in  the  deep  stillness 
of  the  night,  wrap  the  darkness   round  yourself  as  a 


S/JVS  OF  SILENCE.  151 

mantle,  let  your  feet  be  shod  with  silence  and  your  face 
covered  with  secrecy ;  go,  glide  stealthily  as  a  shadow, 
and  hide  at  the  footfall  of  the  traveller,  and  enter  the 
chambers  of  sin  like  a  thief,  and  shut  the  door  without 
sound  behind  you — still  some  one  sees,  some  one  hears, 
some  one  notes  the  fact  on  the  indelible  tablets  of  his 
memory  I  There  is  always  a  witness  where  we  least 
expect  it ;  tread  we  never  so  softly,  some  one  wakes, 
and  hears,  and  guesses  all  about  our  errand.  And 
that  single  human  eye  has  in  an  instant  seen  everything, 
and  that  solitary  human  ear  has  vibrated  to  our  speech 
and  flashed  the  message  up  to  that  invisible  scribe  we 
call  memory,  who  sits  in  the  centre  of  the  brain  and 
writes  down  everything !  What  telegraph  is  there  half 
so  swift  and  wonderful  as  that  rapid  magic  of  the  eye 
and  ear,  which  instantly  registers  our  minutest  actions 
on  another  human  creature's  consciousness  ?  The  word 
half-withdrawn  in  its  very  utterance,  the  act  for  which 
we  thought  we  had  secured  the  most  vigilant  secrecy 
— they  will  be  known,  they  will  be  pondered  and  acted 
on  ;  or,  if  they  be  not  acted  on,  yet  have  we  passed 
en  our  guilty  secret  to  others,  and  they  share  the 
iniquity  of  concealing  it.  Oh,  brother,  here  is  the  most 
tragic  and  awful  aspect  of  sin — we  share  our  sins ! 
We  have  involved  oth'^rs  in  our  guilt,  and  if  we 
forget  they  will  go  remcml  ering.  It  is  v.ell  that  thou 
shouldest  cleanse  thy  lips  and  sing  to  day  the  holy 
Sabbath  sorg;  but  that  wicked  story  thou  didst 
tell  has  already  been  told  and  retold,  and  is  working 
its  foul    wizardry  of  temptation    in    a    hundred    lives 


152  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

already !  It  is  well  that  thou  shouldest  stand  in 
God's  house  to-day,  clothed  with  decorous  reverence* 
unsuspected,  and  with  no  scar  of  fire  upon  thee  ;  but 
what  of  the  poor  soiled  body  of  that  other  one,  the 
sharer  of  thy  sin  and  shame  ?  For  there  is  a  dreadful 
comradeship  in  guilt — often  intentional,  for  men  love 
company  in  their  sins,  but  often  unintentional,  for 
others  share  what  they  concealed  and  know  what  they 
did  secretly.  It  is  the  most  apalling  aspect  sin  assumes  ; 
it  is  never  sterile,  it  is  always  multiplying  and  prolific, 
passing  like  a  fever-taint  from  man  to  man ;  till  from 
one  sin  a  world  is  infected  and  corrupt. 

Notice  again,  that  he  who  sees  a  sin  and  does  not 
rebuke  it  shares  the  sin  and  bears  its  iniquity.  The 
only  way  to  purge  oneself  of  the  contaminating  con- 
plicity  of  another  man's  guilt  is  instantly  to  rebuke  it 
or  witness  against  it.  There  is  no  other  course  open 
to  a  spiritual  honesty. 

Look,  for  instance,  at  this  truth  personally.  No  one 
need  go  very  far  for  an  illustration.  You  are  a  youth 
employed  in  a  warehouse  or  office  where  religion  is  at 
a  discount.  Wherever  men  and  women  assemble  in 
numbers — in  the  barrack,  the  warehouse,  or  the  school, 
there  are  always  to  be  found  the  missionaries  of  the 
evil  one.  In  the  warehouse  there  is  sure  to  be  a  fast 
set,  a  group  of  youths  whose  habitual  talk  is  seasoned 
with  profanity  or  impurity,  and  who  are  always  eager 
to  get  an  audience  for  their  shameful  recitals.  Their 
boasts  are  pretty  generally  mere  brazen  lies ;  they 
themselves    are   contemptible    to   every  manly  intelli- 


S/ATS  OF  SILENCE.  153 

gence ;  but  they  have  influence  ;  and  they  know  it,  and 
love  to  use  it  for  evil.  It  is  with  them  a  malicious  and 
exquisite  amusement  to  say  their  most  outrageous  things 
when  a  comrade  who  professes  piety  is  listening.  You 
have  heard  their  speech  ;  what  did  you  do  ?  You  were 
silent,  you  blushed,  you  felt  ashamed,  you  were  in- 
dignant, you  turned  aside  full  of  abhorrence  for  the 
sin  and  contempt  for  the  sinner,  and  no  doubt  you 
flattered  yourself  you  must  be  very  virtuous  and  good 
to  feel  such  virtuous  anger,  and  there  you  were  content 
to  rest  But  this  text  puts  an  entirely  new  meaning  on 
your  conduct ;  because  yo\x  did  not  witness  against  that 
sin  you  shared  it.  Blushing  is  one  thing,  confessing 
Christ  quite  another.  Your  silence  made  you  the 
accomplice  of  the  sin  you  hated;  you  are  the  yoke- 
fellow with  the  sinner,  and  "  bear  his.  iniquity."  Oh, 
who  is  guiltless  ?  Who  has  not  allowed  himself  to 
become  the  confidant  of  bad  secrets  ?  Weakly,  care- 
lessly, unconsciously  almost,  for  mere  lack  of  robust 
fibre  and  quick  honesty,  you  have  drifted  into  a  false 
position.  The  cynical  confession  has  been  made,  the 
impure  incident  has  been  duly  recited,  and,  having  thus 
been  a  dumb  auditor  of  a  shameful  story,  you  have  felt 
you  could  not  afterwards  say  what  you  wanted  to 
say,  and  so  have  been  silent,  and  have  become  the 
accomplice  of  the  sin.  The  text  speaks  particularly 
of  oaths,  and  certainly  profane  swearing  is  the  most 
entirely  stupid  form  of  sin  over  inv^^nted.  It  is  usually 
a  meaningless  habit.  M  n  seldom  think  of  what  they 
are  sayhig,  ai.d  u  a  iiio.n  must  translate  his  irritation 


154  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 


into  speech  it  would  relieve  his  feelings  quite  as  effec- 
tually to  use  a  few  mathematical  terms,  carefully 
selected  with  a  view  to  expressiveness  and  effect. 
But  I  have  ventured  to  enlarge  the  scope  of  this 
passage,  so  that  it  covers  the  whole  area  of  sins  of 
speech  and  example ;  and  I  say  there  is  nothing  more 
perilous  than  to  allow  yourself  to  become  the  confidant 
of  bad  men.  You  must  witness  against  them  if  j^ou 
would  be  honest.  Do  not  hesitate.  Do  it  at  once. 
It  will  be  easier  to  do  it  on  the  first  impulse  than  ever 
afterwards,  and  once  done  it  will  be  always  easy. 
Failing  to  do  it,  the  unmistakable  verdict  of  this  text — 
and  surely  it  is  not  an  unreasonable  deduction — is  that 
we  share  sin  by  not  rebuking  it,  and  bear  its  iniquities 
by  conspiring  to  cover  it. 

Look  at  this  matter  nationally.  Look  at  what  is 
going  on  at  the  present  time  in  India,  Hong  Kong, 
the  Barbadoes,  wherever  the  flag  of  Britain  is  flying. 
What  is  going  on,  do  you  ask  ?  This,  that  wherever 
that  flag  goes  the  shame  of  British  vice  follows.  Your 
police  officers  are  being  paid  not  to  maintain  order  and 
suppress  vice,  but  to  decoy,  to  deceive,  and  ruin  native 
women  by  every  art  possible  to  the  ingenuity  of  infamy. 
What  the  Government  dare  not  do  here  it  is  doing 
there,  because  there  the  native  is  weak  and  the 
Englishman  strong,  and  the  public  opinion  of  England 
appears  to  be  too  distant  a  force  to  be  feared  or 
reckoned  with.  When  a  Governor  of  Hong  Kong 
comes  home,  horrified  by  what  he  has  seen  and 
known,  and  shows  unmistakable  signs  of  indignation, 


S/NS  OF  SILENCE,  155 

he  is  forbidden  by  the  Colonial  Secretary  to  speak 
publicly  on  this  question,  and  so  the  facts  are  stifled 
at  the  birth.  Here  is  a  case  vouched  for  by  no  less 
competent  an  authority  than  Mrs.  Josephine  Butler, 
in  which  a  poor  Chinese  woman,  in  fleehig  from  these 
British  police  whom  we  have  made  the  sleuth-hounds 
to  hunt  down  innocence,  falls  from  a  •housetop,  and 
is  taken  up  dead.  The  case  of  this  outraged  and 
murdered  woman  does  not  stand  alone.  It  is  typical. 
With  one  hand  we  build  the  church,  and  with  the 
other  the  house  of  infamy ;  with  one  hand  we  offer  the 
Bible  and  with  the  other  the  certificate  of  shame ;  and 
the  bodyguard  we  provide  for  the  missionary  is  the 
police  des  mceurs  !  And  now,  mark,  who  is  responsible 
for  all  this  ?  According  to  my  text,  all  who  know  the 
facts,  and  therefore  from  this  hour  all  who  hear  these 
words  are  responsible  for  the  existence  of  this  licensed 
infamy.  You  are  responsible,  young  man,  in  whose 
hands  the  future  of  England  lies,  and  therefore  I  bid 
you  witness  with  vehement  anger  against  this  great 
wrong  done  against  God  and  womanhood.  You  do  well 
to  be  angry,  for  the  honour  of  your  country  is  being 
stained,  the  dignity  of  womanhood  is  being  outraged, 
the  helplessness  of  weakness  is  being  mocked  !  By  all 
that  is  chivalrous  and  pure,  by  all  that  is  manly  and 
righteous,  it  is  your  duty  and  mine  to  protest  against 
this  abominable  wrong,  everywhere,  at  all  times,  in 
season  and  out  of  season,  till  the  rising  tide  of  public 
indignation  shall  sweep  it  away;  and  if  you  do  not 
witness  against  it  you  connive  at  it,  if  you  do  not  utter 


156  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

your  protest  against  it  your  silence  is  a  conspiracy  to 
shelter  it,  if  you  do  not  rebuke  it  you  share  its  present 
shame  and  the  sure  and  overwhelming  retribution 
which  will  follow  ! 

This  passage  particularly  rebukes,  then,  sins  of 
silence.  Sins  of  speech  we  can  easily  identify.  The 
power  of  language  is  the  distinguishing  glory  of  man, 
and  in  proportion  to  the  splendour  of  the  power  is 
the  mischief  of  its  perversion.  The  tongue  which  is 
touched  of  God,  the  tongue  of  a  Wesley  or  a  Whitefield, 
the  tongue  of  flame,  whose  utterance  is  the  Spirit-call 
of  heaven,  an  inspiration  which  sets  the  brain  throb- 
bing with  new  and  noble  thoughts,  and  the  heart  with 
the  strong  influx  of  spiritual  motion — oh  !  how  vast  a 
power  it  is.     Its 

"  Echoes  roll  from  soul  to  soul, 
And  grow  for  ever  and  for  ever." 

It  speaks  across  the  centuries,  it  makes  the  lips  of  death 
its  trumpet  to  reach  the  unborn  ages.  Like  the  sweet 
and  solemn  reverberations  of  the  Alpine  horn  in 
mountain  soHtudes,  long  after  the  authentic  voice  has 
ceased,  the  music  of  such  voices  falls  upon  the  inward 
ear,  and  time  and  distance  reduplicate  and  invigorate 
the  .  magical  purity  of  the  effect.  But  the  tongue 
which  is  set  on  fire  of  hell,  impure,  rancorous,  bitter, 
glozing  over  vice  with  honeyed  words,  hiding  poison 
in  its  soft  speeches,  the  tongue  that  runs  through  the 
world  and  is  a  liar  from  the  beginning,  and  finds  its 
congenial  task  in  slaying  innocence  and  undermining 
character,  how  vast  a  curse  is  it  I     But  there  are  sins 


SINS  OF  SILENCE.  157 

of  silence  too.  To  be  silent  when  you  should  speak  is 
as  evil  as  to  speak  when  you  should  be  silent.  To 
be  tongue-tied  by  cowardice  when  wrong  discovers  its 
hideous  nakedness  to  us,  is  as  vile  a  thing  as  to  praise 
wrong  and  sing  the  coronation  song  of  wickedness. 
There  are  many  men  prodigally  gifted  with  mere 
animal  courage — the  iron  nerve,  the  steady  hand — men 
who  could  ride  with  an  unwhitened  lip  against  a  flaming 
battery,  and  stand  amid  the  murderous  rain  of  bullets 
on  a  battlefield  as  calm  as  on  a  parade-day,  who  in  the 
higher  tests  of  courage  must  be  dismissed  as  cowards. 
They  are  the  men  of  whom  Bunyan  spoke  in  his  quaint 
verse — 

"Though  you  could  crack  a  coward's  crown, 
Or  quarrel  for  a  pin, 
You  dare  not  on  the  wicked  frown, 
Or  speak  against  his  sin." 

It  is  harder  to  face  ridicule  than  bullets,'  to  witness 
against  wrong  than  to  lead  forlorn  hopes  on  the  battle- 
field. But  if  we  are  Christ's  freedmen  we  shall  do  it. 
We  shall  have  the  higher  courage,  we  shall  know  the 
truth,  and  the  truth  will  make  us  free  of  the  fear  of 
men.  We  shall  see  God,  and,  seeing  Him,  we  shall 
see  no  fears  in  the  way  when  His  signal  waves  us 
forward  ;  and  so  we  shall  confess  our  Master  before 
men,  and  He  will  confess  us  at  the  last  in  the  presence 
of  the  holy  angels. 

The  great  need  of  the  religious  world  at  this  hour  is 
manly  men.  We  want  no  goody-goody  piety  :  we  have 
too  much  of  it,  and  could  very  well  afibrd  to  export  a 


158  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

little.  We  want  none  of  the  knock-kneed,  nerveless, 
sentimental  piety,  which  grows  ecstatic  in  singing  hymns 
on  Sunday,  and  is  conveniently  blind  to  the  injustices  of 
earth  and  the  inhumanities  of  man  to  man  on  Monday, 
The  sort  of  religion  which  is  put  away  with  the  Sunday 
coat  usually  resembles  the  Sunday  coat  in  fitting  ill,  and 
looking  like  a  genteel  encumbrance  ;  the  religion  we 
want  is  one  that  will  stand  the  rough  wear  and  tear  of 
daily  life.  We  want  men  who  will  do  right  though  the 
heavens  fall,  who  believe  in  God  and  nothing  else,  and 
who  will  confess  Him  though  all  men  forsake  them 
and  despitefully  entreat  them.  A  new  age  is  fast  coming 
on  us,  and  a  better  one,  I  think.  That  species  of 
Puritanism  which  believes  in  justice,  righteousness,  and 
reality  is  rapidly  passing  into  the  ascendant,  and  will 
soon  be  the  dominating  force  in  national  life.  The 
philosophies  and  politics  of  mere  expediency  are 
crumbling  into  dust,  and  men  are  turning  more  and 
more  to  the  law  of  Christ  as  the  true  code  of  govern- 
ment for  men  and  nations.  The  new  age  will  hate 
cant  more  than  heterodoxy,  and  will  use  very  search- 
ing tests  to  sift  the  chaff  from  the  wheat  in 
Christian  profession.  If  will  be  a  real  age,  and  will 
demand  reality  ;  it  will  be  a  morally  courageous  age, 
and  will  demand  courage  in  the  followers  of  Christ. 
You,  young  men,  are  the  natural  heirs  of  that  great 
age  which  is  coming.  The  twehtieth  century  is  yours. 
You  will  march  on  when  the  flag  has  fallen  from  the 
failing  hands  to-day ;  you  will  be  in  the  van  of  battle 
when  the  dust  lies  thick  upon  the  faces  of  those  who 


S/NS   OF  SILENCE.  159 

now  front  the  music  of  the  guns  !  Therefore  I  adjure 
you  to  be  real,  to  be  true,  to  be  brave,  to  be  honest  men 
and  unflinching  witnesses,  to  quit  you  like  men  and  be 
strong.  And  if  I  have  seemed  to  set  before  you  an 
impossible  ideal  of  Christian  courage — oh  !  if  we  look 
with  yearning  eyes  towards  that  ideal,  but  with  a 
sickening  sense  of  our  own  impotence  to  reach  it — then 
I  bid  you  to  remember  also  that  we  do  nofe  adore  a 
Christ  who  simply  tells  us  what  we  should  do,  but  a 
Christ  who  lives  in  our  hearts  by  faith,  and  helps  us 
to  do  all  that  He  has  commanded  us. 


IX. 

THE  CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS, 

"  He  then  having  received  the  sop  went  immediately  out :  and  it 
was  night." — John  xi.i.  30. 

THIS  history  which  lies  behind  these  words  is  the 
saddest  and  most  terrible  in  the  annals  of  Chris- 
tianity. We  are  most  of  us  so  constituted  that  we  learn 
most  quickly  through  the  imagination ;  and  that  which 
the  imagination  has  once  bathed  in  its  searching  Hght 
the  memory  seldom  loses.  An  ethical  statement  may 
be  remembered  by  its  epigrammatic  force  or  clearness, 
but  the  history  of  a  human  life  becomes  woven  into  the 
very  texture  of  our  thought,  and  is  never  wholly  oblite- 
rated. We  best  understand  patriotism  when  we  read 
the  life  of  the  hero,  and  faith  when  we  study  the 
martyr's  farewell  to  life,  and  love  when  we  recollect  our 
mother's  gentle  ways,  and  self-forgetful  toil,  and  nightly 
kisses.  So,  too,  I  think  we  shall  best  understand 
what  is  meant  by  deterioration  of  character  culmi- 
nating in  crime  and  sorrow,  not  by  any  bare  state- 
ments or  appeals  I  might  make,  but  by  the  living 
picture  of  a  living  man's  downfall  and  despair.  Just 
as  Esau  was  the  type  of  the  fleshly  man,  waking  up 
too  late  to  the  conviction  of  spiritual  truth,  so  Judas 


THE   CHARACTER    OF  JUDAS. 


is  the  type  of  the  partially-spiritual  man^  whose  better 
nature  is  gradually  sapped  by  evils  imperfectly  resisted, 
till  the  light  of  piety  dies  out,  leaving  the  house  of  the 
spirit  desolate  and  dark.  The  whole  tragic  story  is 
summed  up  in  this  one  dramatic  touch  of  narrative, 
*^  He  went  immediately  out :  and  it  was  night." 

I  desire,  therefore,  to  trace  the  main  outlines  of  this 
strange  life,  and  to  mark  the  moral  issues  it  involves. 
It  is  a  difficult  and  delicate  task,  for  while  no  per- 
sonality is  more  pronounced  than  that  of  Judas,  none  is 
more  intricate  and  subtle.  We  have  to  grope  in  dark- 
ness or  among  half-lights  to  find  the  motives  of  the 
man,  and,  when  his  character  is  revealed,  it  is  suddenly 
and  for  a  moment  only,  in  the  vivid  flash  of  some 
solitary  and  significant  word ;  read,  as  it  were,  by 
lightning,  manifest  only  to  be  withdrawn.  He  himself, 
like  Esau,  is  one  of  the  beacon-lights  of  history,  casting 
far  over  the  troubled  waters  of  Time  a  lurid  gleam, 
rising  high  above  us  on  the  solitary  crag  of  this 
immortal  remorse  in  dreadful  warning.  He  who  would 
approach  the  study  of  Judas  therefore  with  bftterness, 
or  contempt,  or  hatred,  does  ill ;  rather  should  he 
approach  it  with  infinite  pity,  such  as  men  feel  when 
they  see  a  great  intellect  warped,  a  splendid  possibility 
blighted,  a  noble  mind  overthrown.  It  is  thus  Christ 
regards  him  when,  with  ineffable  sadness.  He  dis- 
misses him  from  the  table  of  the  passion,  troubled  in 
spirit  because  He  knows  the  devil  has  overmastered 
one  whom  He  had  loved  and  trusted.  It  is  thus 
Peter  speaks  of  him   without  bitterness,  or  passion,  cr 

II 


i62  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

angry  blame ;  the  whole  scene  is  too  tragic  for  anger, 
too  intensely  sad  for  posthumous  reproach — "  he  fell 
from  his  apostleship ;  he  has  gone  to  his  own  place." 
It  is  so  we  should  speak  of  him  :  as  a  man  and  a  brother, 
who  suffered  temptations  which  assail  us,  and  fell,  as 
the  bravest  might  fall  but  for  the  grace  and  power  of 
God. 

First,  then,  let  us  glance  at  the  Apostolic  Life  of 
Judas.  It  is  obvious  that  Judas  was  once  full  of  noble 
aspiration  and  pious  thought.  For  what  did  it  mean 
for  a  man  to  be  an  Apostle  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  It  meant 
following  Him  who  had  no  place  to  lay  His  head,  con- 
tentment with  houseless  wandering,  resignation  to 
perpetual  privation.  It  meant  the  renunciation  of  all 
the  ordinary  avocations  of  human  life  which  command 
fame  or  fortune,  wealth  or  honour.  It  meant  that  a  man 
should  be  prepared  to  leave  father  and  mother,  the  calm 
of  prosperous  days,  the  prizes  of  successful  toil,  the 
strife  of  secular  ambition  ;  or,  to  put  the  least  evil  last, 
that  he  should  endure  insult  and  ignominy,  the  proud 
man's  contumely,  the  oppressor's  scorn,  the  contempt 
of  all  cautious  and  sedate  citizens,  to  whom  the  words 
and  life  of  Christ  were  at  best  a  sort  of  splendid  mad- 
ness. It  was  not,  perhaps,  the  narrowing  of  life,  but 
it  was  the  concentration  of  life  upon  a  single  purpose ; 
and  the  effect  of  concentration  is  to  intensify  rather 
than  to  narrow  life.  And  what  bait  had  Christ  to  offer 
His  followers  ?  What  was  the  earthly  reward  for  this 
great  renunciation  ?  There  was  absolutely  none,  save 
His  friendship ;  and  the  friendship  of  a  forlorn  man,  a 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  163 

*'  Man  of  sorrows  and   acquainted  with  grief,"  is  not 
usually  attractive  to  shrewd  and  ambitious  minds. 

Let  us  put  the  case  to  ourselves,  then,  and  let  us 
measure  Judas  by  it.  Let  us  suppose  there  should 
appear  in  our  streets  a  man  of  strange  presence  and 
stranger  speech.  He  defies  conventional  ideas  and  out- 
rages conventional  opinion.  He  has  no  visible  means 
of  support,  no  trade,  profession,  or  occupation  ;  he  is  an 
itinerant  prophet,  professing  to  unfold  a  wholly  original 
ideal  of  human  conduct  and  duty.  He  has  been  an 
artisan,  and  is  still  dressed  in  the  simple  raiment  of  the 
humble  toiler.  His  own  brethren  disown  him,  and  the 
village  of  his  birth  yields  him  neither  praise,  attention, 
nor  honour.  Yet  humble  as  he  is  by  birth  and  train- 
ing, he  has  the  audacity  to  attack  the  representatives 
of  weaUh,  culture,  religion,  and  social  opinion.  He  is 
in  the  habit  of  using  language  of  bitter  sternness,  almost 
one  might  say  of  bitter  violence.  Nothing  is  safe  from 
the  winged  arrows  of  his  daring  words  :  the  futile 
defences  of  custom  and  respect  are  shrivelled  up,  as 
though  they  were  a  spider's  web,  before  the  heat  of 
his  courageous  speech.  He  stands  utterly  alone,  in 
what  some  would  call  a  ridiculous,  and  ethers  a  sublime, 
isolation  from  all  sects  and  parties.  His  only  following 
are  women  of  the  humbler  class,  and  men  like  himself, 
artisans  and  fishermen.  His  one  message  is  that  he 
comes  to  found  a  kingdom  of  a  new  social  and  spiritual 
order,  and  that  he  holds  his  authority  direct  from  the 
inscrutable  Creator  Himself.  Do  you  see  the  scene? 
Do  you  grasp  the  position  ?     Can  you  reason  out  ita 


1 64  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

probabilities  ?  What  should  v/e  do  with  such  a  phe- 
nomenal man  as  this  ?  Beyond  doubt  we  should  seize 
him  for  the  first  indictable  offence,  and  try  him  at  the 
nearesf  tribunal  of  justice.  Who  would  follow  him  ? 
Who  would  believe  in  him  ?  Should  we  ?  Should  we 
be  eager  to  go  after  him  in  his  lonely  wanderings  and 
share  his  bitter  bread  of  sorrow  ?  Should  we  be 
resolute  to  leave  home,  friends,  comfort,  and  position 
to  follow  one  so  despised,  so  strange,  so  lonely  ?  Yet 
that  is  just  what  Judas  Iscariot  did.  He  heard  this 
Man's  voice,  and  his  heart  was  shaken  by  it.  He  left 
all,  and  went  out,  and  followed  Jesus  in  the  way.  It 
is  needless,  therefore,  to  repeat  that  Judas  must  once 
have  been  a  man  full  of  noble  enthusiasm,  a  rare  soul, 
an  original  nature,  a  man  with  great  convictions  and 
courage  enough  to  act  upon  them,  a  man  noble  enough, 
and  brave  enough,  and  spiritual  enough  to  do  what 
scarcely  a  hundred  men  in  all  London  would  dare  to 
do  to-day,  if  the  conditions  were  repeated  ! 

It  is  always  easy  to  be  wise  after  the  event,  and 
to  say,  as  John  says,  when  the  tragedy  is  all  acted 
out,  and  l^e  relates  the  episode  of  Judas'  objection  to 
the  waste  of  the  ointment,  "This  he  said  because  he 
was  a  thief."  Unquestionably  a  great  act  of  crime 
often  does  give  a  clue  to  many  mysteries  of  past 
conduct.  It  is  the  flashing  of  a  signal  which  is  caught 
up  and  repeated  along  the  whole  line  of  the  past,  so 
that  many  a  trivial  occurrence  of  that  past  leaps  up 
into  new  and  startling  significance.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  the   truly  noble   points   in    past   character   and 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  165 

conduct  are  often  forgotten  or  obscured  in  such 
moments  of  tragic  revelation.  We  are  always  ready 
to  assume  that  the  traitor  was  always  a  traitor,  and 
the  poor  lost  woman  of  the  streets  never  anything 
but  impure.  It  is  a  comfort  to  our  own  insecure 
virtues  to  assume  that  the  vicious  are  certain  special 
and  unique  monstrosities,  exceptions  to  the  common 
race  of  men,  creatures  built  up  from  the  ooze  and 
ashes  of  hell,  and  dedicated  to  a  preternatural  wicked- 
ness from  their  earliest  breath.  But  nothing  can  be 
more  false  or  more  unjust.  It  is  the  hypocrite's  view 
of  character ;  it  is  the  Pharisee's  attitude  towards  sin  ; 
and  the  human  heart  contradicts  it.  For  ask.  What 
is  the  root  of  murder?  Oftener  than  not  it  is  a 
sudden  access  of  evil  passion,  and  who  has  not  been 
guilty  of  violence  of  temper  ?  What  is  the  root  of 
treachery  ?  It  is  insincerity,  the  unstable  and  double 
mind  ;  and  who  has  not  sometimes  acted  below  his 
convictions,  and  swerved  somewhat  from  the  strict 
integrity  of  his  speech  ?  What  is  the  root  of  vicious 
excess  and  profligate  error  ?  Is  it  not  unchastity  of 
thought,  and  who  has  not  entertained  evil  concep- 
tions and  dallied  with  the  impure  impulse  ?  In  the 
murderer,  the  traitor,  and  the  outcast  we  simply  see 
the  consummation  of  our  own  evil  tendencies,  the 
dreadful  exposition  of  our  own  privately  rehearsed 
but  mercifully  unacted  vices.  "  Let  him  that  is  with- 
out sin  cast  the  first  stone,"  said  Jesus,  and  oh !  how 
significant  is  the  result — not  one  dared  to  smite  the 
sinful  woman  at  His  feet,  for  each  felt  he  might  have 


i66  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

sinned  even  as  she  had !  Until  t^e  seed  of  sin  is 
destroyed  in  our  own  natures,  we  have  no  right  to 
smite  the  fallen  ;  and  when  it  is  destroyed  we  shall 
have  no  desire  to  do  so. 

No ;  there  is  a  picture  in  the  far  past  of  the  life  of 
Judas  very  different  to  this  closing  down  of  despair- 
ing darkness  which  St.  John  paints.  We  seem  to  see 
the  infant  on  his  mother's  breast,  and  hear  the 
innocent  lips  laugh  loud  with  glee  amid  the  flowers 
of  Kerioth.  We  see  the  serious  child  hushed  in 
evening  prayer,  or  going  up  to  the  Temple,  even  as 
Christ  did,  in  some  pilgrim  band  which  fills  the  desert 
solitudes  with  the  song  of  solemn  praise.  We  mark 
the  first  Divine  awakening  of  the  spirit  when  the 
voice  of  God  reaches  it,  and  the  vision  of  truth  is 
revealed.  He  grows  up  strong  in  a  Jew's  faith  and 
nourished  in  a  Jew's  patriotism,  a  student  of  the 
history  of  his  people,  an  ardent  youth  burning  for  the 
fulfilment  of  the  great  promises  of  sage  and  prophet. 
And  then  somewhere,  some  time,  there  flashes  on  his 
view  the  strange  face  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  he  thrills 
beneath  the  spell  of  His  gentleness,  and  bows  before 
His  Divine  hoHness,  and  is  troubled  by  the  searching 
splendour  and  penetration  of  His  speech.  His  admir- 
ation becomes  love,  his  love  becomes  v/orship.  He 
is  ever  in  the  congregation,  and  for  weeks  together 
leaves  home  and  kindred  that  he  may  hear  more  of 
the  voice  of  this  strange,  sad,  solitary  Man.  At  last 
the  reward  comes  ;  those  keen  eyes  have  marked  his 
presence,  and  that  Divine   hand   is   on   his   shoulder, 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS,  167 

and  that  voice,  only  heard  from  afar  before,  speaks 
to  Him  alone,  "  Judas  Iscariot,  lovest  thou  Me  ? " 
And  he  stammers  and  is  confused  ;  he  bows  himself 
hushed  and  lowly,  as  when  a  great,  pure  love  dawns 
upon  a  lonely  soul,  and  says,  ''Yea,  Lord,  thru 
knowest  that  I  love  Thee  ! "  The  spell  draws  him 
and  he  follows  on,  and  into  his  life,  as  truly  as  into 
the  life  of  John  or  Peter,  there  comes  this  new.  Divine, 
wonderful  indwelling  of  the  love  of  Christ.  Oh,  think 
of  that  chapter  in  the  life  of  Judas,  for  be  very  sure 
some  such  unwritten  chapter  there  was,  some  such 
experience  steeped  in  the  tender  lustre  of  love  and 
memory !  Think  of  it,  I  say,  and  learn  when  you 
meet  the  dishonest,  the  false,  the  wicked,  the  branded 
felon,  the  poor  shivering  outcast  of  the  streets,  the 
despised  exile  from  the  abodes  of  love  and  honour, 
overwhelmed  with  contumely,  only  spoken  of  with 
shame  and  shuddering,  the  swine  and  refuse  of  society 
— oh  !  think  then  of  the  brightness  and  innocence  of 
earlier  years,  and  remember  you  behold  a  spectacle 
not  to  be  shunned  with  loathing,  but  to  be  wept  over 
with  tears  of  infinite  compassion. 

Remembering  what  Judas  became,  perhaps  some  of 
you  wall  ask,  Why  did  Christ  choose  him  at  all  ?  Christ 
chose  him  for  what  he  was,  and  what  he  might  have 
been,  not  for  what  he  became.  Christ  chooses  men 
not  for  their  attainments,  but  for  their  possibilities. 
Do  you  suppose  Christ  chooses  men  for  their  ability 
or  their  character?  He  chooses  them  that  He  may 
give  them  character  and  inspire  new  capacities  within 


i68  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

them.  He  chooses  twelve  men,  and  one  was  a  traitor  ; 
the  average  of  treachery  in  human  life  is  usually  higher 
than  that.  Moreover,  the  election  of  Christ  does  not 
fetter  the  free-will  of  a  man.  In  a  certain  high  and 
almost  inscrutable  sense  it  is  true  that  it  all  happens 
^'  that  it  may  be  fulfilled  ;  "  for  though  the  bad  man 
may  seem  an  accident  he  is  not,  but  in  some  way  fits 
into  a  Divine  order.  The  wild  wind  roars  through 
the  troubled  heaven,  but  somewhere  there  is  a  sail  to 
catch  it,  so  that  all  its  fierceness  is  yoked  to  fairest 
uses,  and  transformed  into  a  mysterious  helpfulness. 
There  are  no  accidents  in  the  Divine  order ;  the  harvest 
of  to-day  is  the  fruitful  child  of  the  storm-weat'  er  of 
a  century  ago;  it  was  all  that  it  might  be  fulfilled. 
But  whatever  may  be  the  ultimate  issue  of  events,  the 
will  of  man  works  freely  within  their  circumference. 
Christ  has  chosen  every  living  soul,  and  called  him ; 
yet  few  there  are  that  shall  be  saved.  You  are  as  free 
to  work  evil  in  an  apostleship  as  in  a  fisherman's  boat. 
Nay,  more,  if  this  man  was  so  cursed  and  burdened 
with  evil  aptitudes,  was  it  not  an  act  of  divinest  mercy 
to  call  him  to  an  apostleship  ?  There  are  some  men 
who  never  would  be  Christians  at  all  unless  they  were 
Christian  ministers.  They  need  the  constraint  of  solemn 
responsibilities ;  the  only  chance  of  saving  them  is  to 
set  them  to  save  others.  And,  looked  at  in  this  light 
of  human  experience,  how  Divine  was  that  discernment 
which  chose  Judas,  and  gave  him  this  unique  oppor- 
tunity of  making  his  calling  and  election  sure  beneath 
the  very  eyes  of  Jesus  !     For  the  evils  which  destroyed 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  169 


Judas  had  not  ripened  in  him  when  Jesus  called  him. 
He  came  in  the  untainted  freshness  of  faith,  perhaps 
in  the  unbroken  energy  of  youth.  He  had  more  than 
ordinary  capacity,  for  at  once  he  became  the  organiser 
of  the  Httle  society,  its  steward,  its  financier,  the  cus- 
todian of  its  m.eans.  To  paint  him  therefore  in  the 
light  of  the  after  event,  as  most  painters  have  done, 
disfigured  with  the  leer  of  low  cunning,  scowling  with 
the  meanness  of  baffled  craft  and  delayed  cupidity,  is 
altogether  false.  He  who  paints  Judas  must  put  into 
his  face  the  dying  light  of  what  was  once  noble  enthu- 
siasm—the shadowed  eagerness  of  w^hat  was  once 
heroic  faith.  He  must  paint  a  face  full  of  the  anguish 
of  remembrance,  the  traces  of  perished  nobility,  the 
tragedy  of  overthrown  ideals.  He  must  paint  no 
haggard  miser — 

"  I  saw  a  Judas  once, 
It  was  an  old  man's  face.     Greatly  that  artist  erred 
Judas  had  eyes  of  starry  blue, 
And  lips  like  thine  that  gave  the  traitor  kiss." 

In  a  word,  we  must  remember  Christ  called  him,  and 
not  in  vain ;  Christ  loved  him,  and  not  without  cause ; 
and,  howsoever  dreadful  the  end  may  be,  there  was 
once  a  bright,  a  brilliant,  and  a  beautiful  beginning. 

We  turn,  then,  to  the  great  error  in  the  life  of  Judas. 
It  is  impossible  to  tell  where  that  deterioration  in 
character  began,  but  we  know  that  it  was  not  un- 
observed. Long  before  the  end  Jesus  said,  "One  of 
you  is  a  devil."  Already  He  had  marked  the  waning 
zeal,  the  growing  worldliness,  the  encroaching  greed. 


I7b  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

But  He  did  not  cast  this  man  out.  He  left  Himself  to 
be  robbed  and  betrayed,  knowing  well  that  if  the  con- 
straint of  love  will  not  keep  a  man,  outlawry  will  not 
redeem  him.  It  is  the  central  point  of  God's  thought 
about  man ;  we  are  to  be  saved  by  love  or  no  salvation 
is  possible.  The  doors  of  His  Church  are  wide  open, 
and  into  them  throng  not  only  the  meek  and  noble,  but 
the  ambitious,  the  sordid,  the  worldly ;  people  touched 
by  transient  emotions  of  piety,  and  over-mastered  by 
abiding  instincts  ofwordliness,  men  desirous  of  power 
and  covetous  of  publicity,  they  all  come,  and  the  sheep 
are  not  separated  from  the  goats.  It  is  difficult  to  find 
a  pure  breed  of  either  sheep  or  goats ;  to  our  dull 
discernment  the  finer  lines  of  demarcation  are  indis- 
tinct. There  is  no  keen  dividing  line,  no  flash  of 
revealing  light,  no  angry  roll  of  judgment  thunder. 
Saint  and  pseudo-saint  sing  out  of  the  same  book,  John 
and  Judas  bow  in  the  same  prayer.  We  do  not  see 
the  difference ;  we  even  mistake  fussiness  for  zeal,  and 
thirst  of  power  for  ardour  in  work  ;  and  so  the  wheat 
and  tares  grow  together  "until  the  harvest."  One 
only  sees,  and  His  face,  full  of  solemn  scrutiny,  is 
never  turned  away,  and  His  eye  pierces  all  disguises. 
Strange  words  !  ''One  of  you  is  a  devil."  How  they 
must  have  startled  the  disciples !  In  these  early 
days  when  zeal  was  at  its  height,  and  no  shadow  of 
treachery  had  fallen,  "  One  of  you  is  a  devil."  "  One  ! " 
— which  ?  I  do  not  know  ;  I  cannot  tell.  We  look 
aghast  into  each  other's  faces.  The  words  are  like  the 
flash  of  the  thunderbolt  out  of  the  clear  sky,  like  the 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  JUDAS.  171 

voice  of  doom  crashing  in  amid  the  happy  singing. 
But  He  knows  who  He  means,  and  already  in  some 
heart  He  perceives  the  first  slow  crumbling  of  decay, 
the  beginning  of  irrevocable  ruin,  the  signs  which 
declare  the  denier,  the  apostate,  the  betrayer  that 
shall  be. 

There  were  two  motives  which  actuated  Judas  in  the 
betrayal  of  his  -Lord :  one  is  clear  and  certain ;  the 
other  is  probable,  but  perhaps  not  less  real.  The  first 
was  cupidity.  Cupidity  is  the  most  mean  and  sordid 
of  all  human  vices.  It  narrows  the  whole  horizon  of 
life  to  the  rim  of  a  piece  of  money,  and  discolours  the 
whole  world  with  the  yellow  blindness  of  gold.  It 
distorts  the  intellect  and  hardens  the  heart,  and,  like 
all  other  vices,  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on.  Into  that 
vice  Judas  had  fallen.  His  custody  of  the  bag  had 
led  him  to  covet  its  contents,  and  a  meaner  sin — when 
we  remember  the  poverty  of  the  disciples,  and  the 
destitute,  whose  source  of  help  was  in  the  bag — it  is 
impossible  to  conceive. 

The  second  motive  has  strong  probability  upon  its 
side.  Perhaps  Judas  may  have  reasoned  that  the  hour 
had  come  to  force  a  declaration  of  Christ's  kingdom 
on  earth.  Remember  that  it  was  an  earthly  kingdom, 
and  no  other  sort  of  kingdom,  which  all  the  disciples 
anticipated.  The  two  disciples  on  the  road  to  Em- 
maus  expressed  precisely  the  sense  of  disappointment 
felt  by  all  the  disciples  when  they  said,  *'  We  trusted 
that  it  should  have  been  He  that  should  have  redeemed 
Israel."     The  very  last   question  the  disciples  put  to 


173  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

Christ  immediately  before  the  cloud  received  Him  out 
of  their  sight  was,  ^'  Wilt  Thou  at  this  time  restore 
again  the  kingdom  to  Israel  ?  "  What  they  all  looked 
for  was  a  great  surge  of  patriotism,  which  should  carry 
Jesus  on  its  crest  to  the  throne  of  David,  and  before 
which  the  invader  and  alien  should  be  swept  away. 
Three  years  had  almost  passed,  and  that  kingdom  had 
not  come.  To  every  word  of  warning  wisdom  as  to 
the  true  nature  of  that  kingdom  they  had  been  per- 
versely deaf.  It  began  to  look  as  if  that  kingdom 
were  never  coming,  as  if  they  had  followed  a  bright 
illusion,  a  fascinating  but  fatal  phantom.  What  was 
the  use  of  miracles,  sermons,  popularity,  fame,  if  the 
kingdom  did  not  come  ?  Judas  was  astute  enough  to 
know  that  such  things  as  fame  end  as  rapidly  as  they 
begin,  and  he  was  ambitious  enough  to  desire  more 
tangible  results  than  these.  And  now,  as  the  days 
pass,  and  he  seems  no  nearer  to  the  goal, — always  the 
crowd  but  never  the  army,  always  the  homage  of  the 
crowd  but  never  the  fiery  watchword  nor  the  stroke  for 
power — the  hearts  of  men  like  Judas  misgave  them.  If 
Christ  did  not  move,  then  he,  the  prime  minister  of 
the  little  company,  would  move.  To  thrust  Christ 
into  the  very  hands  of  His  enemies  would  be  only  to 
ensure  one  more  stupendous  miracle,  and  He  who 
had  trodden  the  angry  seas  into  calm  by  the  mastery 
of  Omnipotence  could  defend  Himself  in  such  a  case. 
It  would  bring  matters  to  a  crisis :  either  the  kingdom 
on  earth  would  be  declared,  or  the  whole  bright  dream 
would  break  up  and  vanish  like  an  exhausted  illusion. 


THE  CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS,  173 


And  SO  for  him  there  would  be  not  only  the  reward 
of  cupidity,   but   the   pleasure  of  outwitting  the  higli 
priests  and  gaining  his  own  ambitious  ends.     I  think, 
at  least,  that  is  a  probable,  as  it  certainly  is  a  merciful, 
view  of  Judas,  which  we  may  permit  ourselves  to  take. 
Cupidity,  vanity,  worldliness,  lust  of  power— all  that 
is  meant  by  the  corroding  influence  of  low  ideals  ever 
becoming   lower,   acting   on  the   spiritual   nature   and 
wearing  it  down,  that  is  the  drama  painted  here,  and 
it  is  being  acted  out  in  our  midst  every  day.     Is  not 
that  young  man  listening  to  me  who,  like  Judas,  has 
already  been  brought  under  the  spiritual  influence  of 
Christ?     Your  life  has  thriven  in  the  sheltered  sun- 
light of  a  pious  home,  and  across  your  youth  has  fallen 
the  mysterious  presence  of  the  Christ ;  your  spirit  has 
thrilled  beneath  His  touch  and  responded  to  His  voice. 
But  that  first  freshness  of  faith  has  faded  from  your 
life,  and  now  the  bhght  of  worldHness  has  fallen  on 
you.     You  have  not  fallen  into  open  vice,  but,  you  are 
estranged  from  Christ,  and  the  spiritual  is  ceasing  to 
affect  your  life.     You  are  like  a  ship  which  still  seems 
to  hold  the  same  course,  but  curious  watchers  on  the 
shore  perceive  that  the  course  is  altered,  and  know  that 
there  arq,  secret  currents  which  are  drifting  you  toward 
the  rocks.     The  deterioration  of  character  has  begun. 
The   integrity   of   your   purpose   is   corrupted.      The 
bright   enthusiasm   of    boyhood    is   passing   into    the 
worldling's   callous   pessimism.      Some   secret    sin    is 
already  festering  in  your  life,  and,  like  the  slow  worm 
toiling  darkly  and  silently  in  the  centre  of  the  fair  tree, 


174  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

is  eating  out  your  heart.  And  oh,  what  is  half  so 
terrible  as  this  wreck  of  character  ?  The  loss  of  in- 
tellectual vigour,  the  slow  decay  of  the  body  fashioned 
in  strength  and  beauty,  the  crumbling  of  historic 
monuments,  the  downfall  of  great  empires — all  this  is 
comedy  beside  the  spectacle  of  the  slow  disintegration 
of  character  before  the  secret  force  of  sin.  What  lips 
can  utter  the  music  of  infinite  lamentation  which  such 
a  theme  deserves  ?  But  this  disintegration  of  character 
is  going  on  even  now  in  some  of  us,  and  as  Christ 
passes  through  our  midst  He  pierces  all  the  clever 
shows  of  virtue  with  which  we  deceive  others  and  half- 
deceive  ourselves,  and  His  word  strikes  like  a  lightning 
flash  into  the  interior  darkness  of  the  most  hidden  life, 
'^  Verily  I  say  unto  you — one  of  you  is  a  devil !  " 

But  however  we  may  interpret  the  motives  of  Judas, 
we  cannot  but  reflect,  How  inadequate  the  reward  to  the 
risk  !  Take  it  on  the  nobler  supposition, — was  the 
possible  result  of  compromising  Christ  worth  the  peril 
of  the  venture  ?  Take  it  on  the  lower,  and  is  it 
possible  to  conceive  a  more  miserable  reward  for  so 
stupendous  a  piece  of  wickedness  ?  ^'  Who  sold  his 
Lord  for  thirty  pieces  of  silver ! "  You  cannot  utter 
these  words  without  a  sense  of  keen,  sad,  bitter  irony. 
Between  the  act  and  the  reward  there  seems  an  im- 
passable gulf — the  one  is  vast  in  Satanic  wickedness, 
the  other  contemptible  in  Satanic  meanness.  But  it 
is  always  so ;  the  reward  of  evil  is  perpetually  ina- 
dequate. Think,  O  traitor,  in  whom  the  spirit  of 
falsehood  has  already  begun  to  work — ^you  will  betray 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  175 

your  friend,  your  party,  your  country — think  of  what 
it  is  you  risk !  What  is  that,  do  you  reply  ?  This  : 
the  scorn  of  men,  and  the  still  more  scathing  scorn  of 
yourself — that  all  men  will  shun  you  as  a  moral  leper, 
that  through  all  the  years  of  your  life  you  must 
hide  your  shameful  secret  in  solitary  places,  and  cry, 
"  Unclean,  unclean  ! "  And  this,  also,  that  some  man 
may  chance  to  take  a  pen  and  narrate  your  deed, 
as  the  deed  of  Judas  is  narrated  ;  and  that  little  scrap 
of  printed  paper  will  go  fluttering  dcwn  the  centuries 
and  secure  you  the  certain  execrations  of  posterity ; 
and  that  all  this  will  last  as  long  as  men  can  read 
and  there  is  a  sun  to  read  by,  and  a  human  heart 
left  to  scorn  the  memory  of  your  deed  !  Is  it  worth 
the  price?  Think,  O  thief,  pilfering  only  little  sums 
to-day  perhaps,  what  it  is  you  risk :  the  felon's 
cell  and  the  felon's  brand,  perpetual  outlawry  from 
society,  infamy  for  yourself,  and  heartbreak  and 
anguish  for  your  friends ;  and  for  what  reward  ?  For 
a  few  pieces  of  paltry  silver,  spent  in  shameful  plea- 
sure or  hoarded  in  agonising  terror ;  and  tell  me,  is 
it  worth  the  price?  Think,  O  youth,  beguiled  into 
profligacy,  what  it  is  you  sell,  and  for  what  a  price ; 
a  pure  heart,  an  untainted  imagination,  a  clean  record, 
and  in  exchange  an  infamous  and  transient  pleasure 
followed  by  guilty  and  degrading  knowledge,  an  irre- 
parable stain,  growing  like  a  spot  of  leprosy,  till  life 
is  loathsome,  and  death  a  rack  of  unspeakable  anguish 
and  despair.  Tell  me,  is  it  worth  the  price  ?  Yet 
such  is  the  madness  and  folly  of  men,  they  are  ready 


176  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

to  pay  it.  They  pay  it,  knowing  well  how  vilely  they 
are  cheated.  With  a  sort  of  insensate  impulse  men 
do  evil  long  after  evil  has  ceased  to  gratify  them,  the 
very  power  to  do  ill  deeds  making  ill  deeds  done. 
Call  to  me  the  great  host  of  men  who  have  taken  the 
price.  Is  there  one  happy  man  among  them  ?  Was 
there  ever  a  joyful  felon,  a  mirthful  murderer,  a  merry 
traitor  ?  See  them,  as  they  shuffle  forward  in  view, 
the  bondservants  in  iniquity !  All  light  save  the 
hateful  light  of  cunning  is  burned  out  of  their  eyes ; 
they  laugh,  but  never  smile ;  black  fear  is  riding 
at  their  back ;  they  flit  phantomlike  in  desolate  places 
and  have  no  rest,  they  hide  themselves  in  the  deepest 
purlieus  of  great  cities,  they  clothe  themselves  with 
darkness  as  with  a  garment,  for  they  ever  feel  the 
strangling  cord  about  their  throats,  and  the  dooms- 
man's  hand  upon  their  shoulders — look  at  them  with 
their  haggard  brows,  and  silent  lips,  and  stealthy, 
crouching  walk,  and  behold  their  faces  are  as  the 
faces  of  the  lost,  for  already  they  dwell  in  the  fiery 
circles  of  a  worse  Inferno  than  any  Dante  painted  ! 
These  are  the  men  who  have  taken  the  pricey  and, 
like  a  low  moan  carried  by  a  sad  wind  through  the 
lighted  ways  of  life,  the  accumulated  sorrow  of  their 
wasted  lives  cries  to  those  who  stand  in  the  first 
happy  sunlight  of  youth  or  strength  or  on  the  verge  of 
dark  temptations:  ''The  way  of  transgressors  is  hard!" 
Mark,  then,  that  sin  is  a  cumulative  force.  No  one 
ever  expects  to  join  that  dreadful  company  of  men 
who  have  taken  the  price ;  no  one  ever  did.     No  one 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  177 

ever  sees  the  ominous  shadow  of  the  prison  or  the 
lazar-house  falling   on  him  in   his  first  act  of  sin,  or 
believes  he  could  betray  Christ  in  the  hour  v^hen  he 
is  first  conscious  of  withdrawing  from  Him.     On  the 
contrary,  each  one   is   ready  to  say  there  are  certain 
sins   he   could   not   do,   and   he   honestly  beHeves    it. 
Probably   no    one    was    more    indignant   than   Judas 
when  Christ  said,  "  One  of  you  is  a  devil."     But  no 
man  knows  how  far  he  may  fall  when  the  avalanche 
begins    to    move    beneath    his   feet.      The   profligate 
always   thinks   he   will    be   so   cautious   in    his   vices 
that    their   penalty   will    never    fall    on    him,    and    the 
drunkard   always    says    he    knows  just    how  much   is 
good  for  him   and   is   not   likely  to   be   the   slave  of 
drink.     But  see  how  rapidly  the  evil   hidden    in    the 
heart   of  Judas   is   developed.     A   few  months   pass, 
and  he  is  found  at  the  Last  Supper  with  the  price  of 
his  Master's  blood  upon  him.     All  are  sad;    he  only 
is  confident.     All  are  touched  with  pity  for  the  Divine 
sufferer ;  he  only  sits  hard  and  resolute,  with  his  guilty 
secret  locked  securely  in  his  own  bosom.     And  then 
Christ   is   troubled.     It    seems   as   if  the   sin   of  the 
whole   world  sits  before    Him    incarnate   in   this   one 
disciple.     He  cannot    eat   the   sacred  supper   in   that 
dreadful  presence.     He  cannot  speak   the   last  words 
of  ineftable  love  while  such  ears  are  listening.     Christ 
knows   that  He  will  be  betrayed,  and  says  so.     And 
then   Judas,   in   a   very   consummation   of  effrontery, 
says,    *'Is    it    I?"     That    sentence   marks    the    last 
depth   of  guilt  in  Judas.     Christ   can   only   answer; 

12 


178  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

"Thou  hast  said."     "And  he  .  .  .  went  immediately 
out;  and  it  was  night." 

And  then  follows  the  great  Remorse,  *'  When  he  saw 
Jesus  condemned — "  So  he  did  see  it.  He  saw  the 
trial  before  Caiaphas  and  Herod,  the  scourging  and  the 
mockery,  and  when  he  saw  it,  the  whole  horrible  truth 
of  his  own  crime  broke  upon  him,  and  with  one  wild 
outcry  of  despair  he  threw  up  his  hands,  and  fled 
through  the  thick  darkness  of  Calvary,  and  went  out 
and  hanged  himself.  How  terrible  is  that  moment 
when  a  man  sees  himself  as  he  is,  and  is  able  to  measure 
the  full  consequences  of  his  acts.  After  the  darkness 
of  evil  deeds  there  always  comes  that  clear,  troubling, 
avenging  light.  In  one  of  Frith's  pictures,  the  culmi- 
nation of  the  tragedy  is  reached  when  the  day  breaks, 
and  shines  through  the  uncurtained  window  on  the 
ruined  gambler.  In  the  most  tragic  page  of  fiction  our 
time  has  produced,  the  same  truth  is  taught  in  that  one 
intense  ringing  sentence,  which  tells  us  how  when  the 
murder  was  done  the  day  broke,  and  the  sun  "  shone 
upon  the  blood.  It  did."  When  Judas  saw  Christ 
condemned,  the  high  priest  scornfully  flinging  Him  aside 
like  the  broken  tool  He  was,  the  black  cross  lifted  high 
against  the  lurid  sky,  the  bowed  head,  the  wasted 
blood-stained  face  of  Him  whom  he  had  kissed,  and 
heard  the  great  cry  of  His  parting  anguish  as  He  gave 
up  the  ghost,  then  the  last  veil  of  deception  was  rent 
in  him,  and  he  saw  himself  as  Christ  saw  him.  And 
the  time  comes  when  you  will  see  your  sin  as  God 
now  sees  it,  and  will  measure  it  in  its  full  irreparable 


THE  CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  179 

consequences  as  God  now  measures  it.  When  Judas 
saw  that  sight,  he  said,  "  I  have  betrayed  innocent 
blood,  and  he  went  out  and  hanged  himself." 

Many  and  solemn  are  the  lessons  which  crowd  upon 
the  mind  as  we  close  the  record.  Almost  every  phrase 
used  about  Judas  is  in  itself  a  sermon,  a  tragedy,  a 
revelation  !  '*  Is  it  I  ? "  They  all  said  it ;  for  they 
were  all  shaken  with  fear,  and  felt  themselves  capable 
of  the  wickedness  of  Judas,  even  as  we  bow  with  a 
bitter  knowledge  of  our  weakness  and  pray,  "  Deliver 
us  from  evil."  **  He  went  out,  and  it  was  night."  It  is 
always  night  when  a  man  turns  his  back  on  Christ ;  to 
leave  Him  is  to  enter  the  outer  darkness.  "  He  went 
to  his  own  place" — that  is  precisely  where  each  of  us 
is  going.  There  is  a  Voice  which  says,  "  I  go  to 
piepare  a  place  for  you;"  but  we  cannot  enter  that 
place  unless  we  are  prepared  for  it.  The  final  law  of 
the  universe  is  like  to  like ;  the  closing  voice  of  Time 
gives  men  the  unrestrained  heritage  of  their  own  free- 
will :  "  Let  him  that  is  unjust  be  unjust  still."  You 
will  go  to  precisely  the  society  you  have  fitted  yourself 
for,  and  the  place  you  have  prepared  to  receive  you. 
Where  that  place  was  for  Judas,  to  what  land  of  gloom 
and  tears  he  went,  we  know  not ;  but  it  was  his  own 
place.  Beyond  that  word  no  other  is  given  us.  There 
the  history  closes  on  this  side  the  veil,  and  it  closes 
with  the  terror  of  suicide,  the  blasted  tree  with  its  grim 
burden  hanging  over  the  dreadful  precipice,  and  the 
field  of  Aceldama,  with  its  heap  of  bruised  and  battered 
clay,  ''  the  field  of  blood." 


l8o  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


But  if  we  cannot  pierce  that  dreadful  gloom  and 
follow  the  flight  of  that  guilty  spirit  to  the  face  of  God, 
or  guess  with  what  words  the  fallen  Apostle  and  the 
Divine  Master  may  have  met  in  that  revealing  light 
beyond,  one  thing  we  do  know,  and  are  quite  sure  of : 
we  know  that  Judas  left  Christ,  Christ  did  not  leave  him. 
Oh,  had  he  turned,  even  in  that  last  moment  when  his 
foot  was  on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  and  he  faced  the 
eternal  blackness  ;  had  he  even  then  fallen  on  his  knees 
and  cried,  "  Lord,  be  merciful,  I  am  a  sinful  man," 
would  not  that  great  heart  of  Christ  have  taken  him  in  ? 
Would  not  He  have  rejoiced  more  over  this  one  sinner 
who  was  lost  and  found  than  over  the  ninety  and  nine 
who  need  no  such  sore  repentance  ?  Ah  !  can  we  not 
picture  how,  while  all  the  disciples  shrink  back  in  con- 
sternation and  dismay  from  such  guilt  as  his,  He  alone, 
the  blessed  Healer  of  men,  puts  His  hand  upon  that 
fallen  head,  and  in  the  darkness  Judas  perceives  above 
him  "  the  waving  of  the  hands  that  blessed  "  ?  And 
can  we  not  perceive  further  how,  forgiven  much,  this 
man  might  have  loved  much,  and  have  been  known  to 
us  to-day  by  the  splendour  of  his  saintliness,  and  not 
by  the  huge  horror  of  his  shame  ?  It  might  have  been 
for  Judas  :  it  may  be  for  you.  You  are  going  out — 
you  are  going  out  immediately ;  are  you  going  into  the 
night  ?  Oh,  brother,  I  cannot  let  you  go  till  Christ  has 
blessed  you.  You  stand  on  that  threshold  which  is 
the  narrow  verge  between  two  lives.  Christ  claims 
your  discipleship,  and  in  Christ  only  is  the  secret  of 
true  manhood.     Do  you  reply  that  this   steadfast  dis- 


THE   CHARACTER   OF  JUDAS.  i8l 

cipleship,  this  ideal  manhood  I  have  tried  in  these 
addresses  to  point  you  to,  is  impossible  for  one  so 
weak  as  3'Ou  ?  Then  I  reply  once  more,  We  go  to 
Christ  not  because  we  are  strong,  but  because  we  are 
weak,  and  all  that  Christ  tells  us  to  be  He  will  help  us 
to  become.  Do  you  stand,  weak,  tempted,  half-despair- 
ing on  the  brink  of  that  great  darkness,  that  night  of 
nights  into  which  Judas  sank  ?  Oh,  listen,  brothers  ! 
He  calls  us ;  He  bids  us  hope  ;  He  is  saying,  '^  Ye 
shall  receive  power  after  that  the  Holy  Ghost  is  come 
upon  you."  That  is  what  1  want  :  power  to  do  right 
and  love  right ;  power  to  love  Him  and  to  suffer  for 
Him  ;  power  such  as  that  which  changed  Peter,  the 
cowardly  denier,  into  Peter  the  tongue  of  fire.  As  for 
me,  I  obey  that  Voice.  I  turn  my  face  from  the  dark- 
ness to  the  light.  I  come  simply  because  He  has  called 
me.  That  is  all  I  can  say  as  I  fall  contrite  at  His  feet, 
but  it  is  enough. 

"  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  Thy  blood  was  shed  for  nie, 
And  that  Thou  bidst  me  come  to  Thee, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come.' 


X. 

JOB   ON  PESSIMISM. 

"Yet  man  is  born  unto  trouble,  as  the  sparks  fly  upward." — Job 
V.  7. 

THE  Book  of  Job  is  the  grandest  poem  in  the 
literature  of  the  world.  The  majesty  of  an 
almost  primeval  world  breathes  in  it.  In  all  that  con- 
stitutes the  highest  human  genius — sublimity,  devout- 
ness,  pathos,  dignity  of  thought,  largeness  of  touch 
and  view,  it  is  unsurpassed.  But  it  lives  not  merely 
because  it  is  the  work  of  sublime  genius,  but  because 
the  heart  of  the  world  beats  in  it.  The  deepest  ques- 
tionings and  yearnings  of  the  soul  of  man  are  embalmed 
in  it.  The  ages  do  not  alter  these:  they  do  but  in- 
tensify them.  The  Book  of  Job  is  being  written  anew 
to-day  in  a  thousand  homes,  where  first  the  servant 
sickens  and  then  the  child,  first  the  treasure  disappears 
and  then  the  house  falls,  till  stripped  and  peeled,  bare 
and  desolate,  smitten  but  rebellious,  men  bow  them- 
selves in  utter  weakness  and  abasement,  and  cry  with 
an  exceeding  bitter  cry,  '^  My  soul  is  weary  of  my  life. 
Would  God  that  I  were  dead !  There  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest ! "     Let 


JOB   ON  PESSIMISM  183 

US  look  at  Job's  view  of  his  troubles,  as  he  stated  it 
in  his  darkest  and  most  pessimistic  moment. 

First  of  all,  then,  we  have  an  obvious  truth,  that 
''man  is  born  to  trouble."  That  needs  neither  eluci- 
dation nor  amplification.  The  life  which  has  wholly 
escaped  the  stroke  of  trouble  has  never  yet  been  lived. 
For  there  are  at  least  two  species  of  troubles,  which 
it  is  utterly  out  of  the  power  of  any  man,  however 
prosperous,  to  checkmate  or  elude — viz.,  bereavement 
and  death ;  and  neither  can  he  escape  the  physical 
ills  which  produce  both.  Long  life,  for  instance,  is 
one  of  the  blessings  most  coveted  by  men ;  but  so 
closely  are  blessing  and  curse  interwoven,  that  the 
longer  the  life,  the  more  certain  is  the  action  of  be- 
reavement, and  the  more  disastrous  will  its  sorrows 
become.  Conceive  to  yourself  the  most  perfect  of 
human  lives — perfect  in  its  health,  in  its  vigour,  in 
unbroken  intellectual  activity,  in  capacity  of  enjoyment, 
in  its  achievement  of  earthly  successes.  Watch  such 
a  life,  as  it  grows  in  power  and  breadth,  as  it  wins 
knowledge  and  experience,  as  it  rises  into  public 
honour  and  reverence.  It  is  the  life  we  all  of  us  most 
covet ;  and  it  is  a  healthy  desire  which  prompts  us  to 
covet  it.  But  if  you  come  to  watch  this  life  with  any 
closeness  of  scrutiny,  you  will  see  at  once  that  one 
grievous  form  of  trouble  is  multiplied  to  it,  though 
m.any  other  forms  are  avoided—  the  trouble  of  bereave- 
ment is  there.  As  it  grows  in  years  it  becomes  more 
isolated  and  solitary.  Friend  after  friend  departs,  and 
shcck  after  shock  of  sorrow  must  be  endured.     It  is 


1.84  THE  THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

the  penalty  of  old  age  to  be  lonely.  The  old  man  is 
like  a  traveller  who  started  long  ago  with  a  jocund 
company  upon  the  mountain  path ;  but  as  day  wanes 
one  by  one  his  friends  drop  behind,  and  fall  out  of 
sight  or  hearing.  One  is  lame  and  one  is  weary ;  the 
cloud  rolls  up  and  covers  one,  and  the  snowstorm 
blows  and  hides  another :  one  sleeps  beside  some 
flowery  hollow  on  the  way,  and  one  was  smitten  by 
the  lightning  or  the  avalanche  :  he  alone  is  left,  press- 
ing on  with  failing  heart  to  the  solemn  inn  of  death, 
which  crowns  the  mountain  summit,  and  where  in 
awful  solitude  he  lies  down  to  die.  He  is  born  to 
trouble,  and  cannot  escape  trouble.  Neither  fame,  nor 
honour,  nor  length  of  days  can  teach  him  any  secret 
whereby  he  may  elude  that  awful  presence.  The  coin 
in  which  life  pays  itself  to  him  may  differ,  as  gold 
differs  from  silver  or  copper,  but  the  mintage  and 
superscription  are  the  same. 

Now  if  the  most  perfect  human  life  which  one  can 
imagine  is  born  to  trouble,  if  hearts  break  in  palaces 
as  in  cottages,  and  men  bear  the  grief  of  a  wounded 
spirit  in  the  house  of  luxury  as  well  as  in  the  seclusion 
of  penury,  we  need  not  pause  to  verify  the  words  of 
Job  from  the  more  visible  and  open  sorrows  of  the 
world.  We  need  not  enumerate  the  disappointments 
and  disasters,  the  calamities  and  pains  of  a  life  which 
never  knows  good-fortune,  or  more  than  passing  flashes 
of  joyous  sunshine.  The  poor,  the  broken-hearted, 
the  unhappy,  the  unfortunate,  are  always  with  us. 
The  invalid   and   the  dying  are  in  every  street.     No 


JOB   ON  PESSIMISM.  185 

hour  passes  when  Rachel  is  not  weeping  for  her 
children,  and  when  the  cry  of  desolate  hearts  is  not 
going  up  from  the  sick-chamber,  which  has  become  a 
death-chamber,  while  we  laughed  or  while  we  slept. 

But  the  great  question  that  meets  us  is  this  :  how 
do  we  interpret  this  unhappiness  of  human  life  ?  We 
know  how  the  pessimist  interprets  it.  He  tells  us 
frankly  that  life  is  not  worth  living,  and  that  no  sane 
man  would  choose  to  live  it,  if  power  of  choice  were 
his.  He  tells  us  that  the  only  way  of  getting  through 
the  bitter  ways  of  life  tolerably  is  to  cultivate  callous- 
ness of  heart,  and  to  wear  the  armour  of  a  trained 
stoicism.  He  says  that  if  any  responsible  Power  did 
make  the  world,  He  blundered  Badly  in  His  work ;  so 
badly  that  we  could  make  a  better  world  ourselves,  if 
the  chance  were  given  us.  And  finally  he  tells  us  that 
the  best  hope  of  man  is  to  be  done  with  life  as  soon  as 
prssible,  the  best  power  of  man  is  power  to  terminate 
it  at  once,  and  the  best  wisdom  of  the  race  is  universal 
suicide.  This  is  a  philosophy  of  hopelessness  which  is 
being  preached  to-day.  Its  effect  is  to  fill  the  world 
with — 

"Infections  of  unutterable  sadness 
Infections  ot  incalculable  madness, 
Infections  of  incurable  despair." 

Its  gospel  is  — 

"  O  brothers  of  sad  lives !  they  are  so  brief, 
A  few  short  years  must  bring  us  all  relief; 

Can  we  not  bear  these  years  of  labouring  breath? 
But  if  you  would  not  this  poor  life  fulfil, 
Lo,  you  are  free  to  end  it  when  you  v\ill 
Without  the  fear  of  waking  aft^r  death." 


l86  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

Let  us  examine  this  view  of  life  then,  and  see  how 
far  its  pretensions  can  be  sustained. 

I.   First,  then,  What  is  trouble  ? 

Now  trouble  is  a  wide  word,  and  may  be  said  to 
include  three  ideas  at  least ;  viz.,  labour,  pain,  and 
dissatisfaction.  Trouble  and  labour  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment writings  are  often  used  synonymously,  as  you 
will  see  by  a  glance  at  the  marginal  reference  of  this 
very  verse.  Pain  and  dissatisfaction  are  constant  sources 
of  trouble,  in  the  conventional  acceptation  of  the  word. 
If  then  we  take  these  three  facts  of  life  as  constituting 
what  men  assume  to  make  the  bitterness  of  existence, 
we  shall  not  be  far  off  a  right  understanding  of  the 
text.  It  is  these  three  facts  of  labour,  pain,  and  dis- 
satisfaction in  human  life  which  fill  the  pessimist  with 
despair,  and  on  which  he  founds  his  railing  accusation 
against  the  Governor  and  the  government  of  the  uni- 
verse.  First  of  all  then,  let,  us  examine  the  meaning 
and  effect  of  labour  on  human  life. 

Well,  what  is  it  the  pessimist  has  to  say  against 
labour  ?  It  is  that  it  is  a  curse,  and  nothing  but  a 
curse.  In  a  well-constituted  world  labour  would  not 
be  a  necessity.  In  such  a  world  all  mouths  would  be 
amply  fed  without  toil  for  bread,  and  all  lives  freely 
lived  without  the  grinding  yoke  of  toil.  Labour  pre- 
vents the  free  development  of  human  life.  It  makes 
men  for  the  larger  part  of  their  time  slaves  and 
drudges.  It  is  like  toiling  at  a  dyke — keeping  its  frail 
barrier  up  with  infinite  effort  against  an  encroaching 
sea,  because  we  know  that  if  labour  is  relaxed,  the 


JOB   ON  PESSIMISM.  187 

waters  of  desolation  and  misery  would  rush  in  upon  us, 
and  overpower  us.  The  ideal  world  is  an  idle  world — 
a  paradise  of  loungers,  a  land  where  it  is  always  after- 
noon, a  lotus-eating  realm  of  drowsy  ease,  where  ring 
of  hammer  or  roll  of  wheel  is  never  heard,  because  the 
fruits  of  Eden  drop  unbidden  into  sensual  mouths,  and 
food  and  rairrent  are  provided  with  the  same  bountiful 
precision  as  light  and  air.  That  is  the  pessimistic  ideal 
of  perfect  life,  and  a  perfect  world. 

But  now  ask.  Is  labour  a  cuise  ?  Something  of  truth 
there  is  in  the  pessimist  wail,  because  the  incidence  of 
labour  oftentimes  is  unjust.  The  frantic  effort  of  the 
world  from  the  beginning  has  been  to  escape  work. 
It  seems  as  though  every  man  had  asked  himself, 
"  Can  I  set  some  one  else  to  work  for  me,  and  steal 
the  fruit  of  his  labour?"  or,  "Can  I  live  without 
work?"  or,  "Can  I,  by  labouring  at  express  speed 
for  a  given  number  of  years,  at  last  manage  to  live 
without  work?"  I  do  not  pause  to  examine  these 
questions  fully,  but  I  remark  about  them  all,  that  the 
escape  from  labour  which  men  covet,  and  do  often 
gain  in  part,  so  far  from  blessing  them,  generally 
ends  in  cursing  them.  To  modify  the  drudgeries  of 
human  life  is,  and  should  be,  the  aim  of  any  Christian 
civilisation.  Labour  is  a  curse  when  it  allows  man 
no  leisure  for  books,  or  for  recreation,  or  quiet  thought. 
But  the  escape  from  labour  by  setting  another  to  toil 
for  you,  or  by  toiling  at  double  speed  yourself  for  half 
a  lifetime,  to  idle  through  the  c  thcr  half,  is  a  worse 
curse    than    honest    drudgery.     Indolence    leads    men 


i88  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 


not  to  paradise,  but  to  hell.  It  debauches  and  it  sen- 
sualises ;  it  depraves  and  it  debases  ;  it  poisons  the 
blood  and  fans  the  passions  into  perilous  activity ;  it  is 
the  destruction  of  a  man,  not  his  elevation  or  emancipa- 
tion. Let  the  lives  of  the  idle  and  effeminate  rich  be  my 
witness  in  this  !  And  how  can  it  be  otherwise  ?  Such 
lives  are  lived  in  direct  defiance  of  the  just  law  of  life, 
that  *'  if  a  man  work  not,  neither  shall  he  eat ; "  and  the 
outraged  law  is  avenged  upon  them  in  enftm  and  misery, 
in  the  disintegration  of  the  moral  nature,  and  the 
effeminacy  of  the  physical ;  and  therefore  I  say  human 
experience  condemns  the  pessimistic  ideal  of  paradise 
as  wicked  and  absurd.  It  is  the  conception  of  a  niean 
mind  and  grovelling  nature.  It  springs  from  an  utterly 
base  and  paltry  view  of  human  nature  and  its  capacities, 
and  were  such  a  paradise  gained  to-morrow,  it  would 
soon  prove  a  field  of  Aceldama,  or  garden  of  Gehenna. 
'*As  the  sparks  fly  upward" — yes,  upward!  says 
Job.  That  is  the  true  tendency  of  labour — upward  ! 
Labour  is  the  safeguard  of  human  manhood.  It  is  the 
source  of  human  civilisation.  What  is  it  but  the 
necessity  of  labour  that  has  drawn  man  from  his  cave- 
dwellings  and  mud  wigwams,  and  taught  him  to  build 
palaces  and  temples;  and  in  order  that  he  might  build 
them,  has  set  him  to  pierce  the  barriers  of  nature,  and 
wrest  from  the  stubborn  mother  the  secrets  of  her 
wealth  ?  Is  it  not  labour  which  has  disciplined  his 
powers,  and  by  the  development  of  these  powers  has 
lifted  him  from  the  ranks  of  the  savage  to  a  place  but 
little  lower  than  the  angels  ?     Is  it  not  in  the  school 


JOB   ON  PESSIMISM.  189 


of  labour  that  his  hand  has  gained  deftness  and  flexi- 
bility, his  eye  has  learnt  precision  and  discernment,  his 
brain  has  broadened  into  a  supreme  engine  of  thought, 
before  which  the  secret  of  the  heavens  has  stood  re- 
vealed, and  the  mystery  of  nature  has  been  laid  bare 
and  naked  ?  All  that  man  is,  all  that  man  has,  he 
owes  to  labour.  It  has  lifted  him  up,  not  cast  him 
down.  It  has  become  the  music  of  life,  the  secret  of 
health,  the  minister  of  peace,  the  impulse  to  develop- 
ment. Is  it  then  to  be  deplored  as  a  disaster  ?  Is 
the  best  dream  of  man  an  idle  world  ?  Is  this  the  sort 
of  paradise  to  which  he  aspires  ?  The  man  who  has 
no  higher  aspiration  than  desire  for  ease  has  already 
abdicated  his  royalty,  and  ranged  himself  with  the 
monkey  and  the  ape  rather  than  with  the  man.  But 
the  man  who  toils,  and  rejoices  in  his  labour,  has 
already  drawn  the  sting  of  the  primal  curse,  and  finds 
liow  true  is  the  word  of  Job,  that  as  sparks  fly  upward, 
when  the  smith's  hammer  rings  upon  the  anvil,  so  a 
man  rises  when  he  vv'orks,  and  sinks  when  he  disdains 
work,  and  chooses  rather  sensual  ease  and  indolence 
and  self-indulgence. 

II.  Take  again  the  idea  of  pain.  What  has  the  pes- 
simist to  say  to  that  ?  His  reply  is.  Pain  is  nothing 
but  a  curse,  a  malady,  a  disaster ;  something  that  no 
God  who  w^as  good  could  ever  have  permitted  in  thj 
constitution  of  His  world.  Any  able  pessimist  could 
have  made  a  better  world,  and  in  the  pessimistic  world 
fain  would  have  had  no  place.  Now  perhaps  that 
£eems  to  some  of  you  a  just  criticism.     There  is  a 


190  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

plausible  benevolence  in  the  idea  that  is  seductive. 
You  will  recollect  that  this  power  and  presence  of 
pain  in  the  world,  was  one  of  the  difficulties  of  my 
unknown  correspondent,  referred  to  in  an  earlier 
address.  But  ask  again,  would  a  world  without  pain 
be  an  improvement  ?  We  are  born  to  it ;  would  it 
make  better  men  of  us  to  cheat  our  fate  ?  Is  it  a 
right  assumption  that  a  world  without  pain  would  be 
a  better  world  than  the  world  as  it  is  ?  You  have  but 
to  think  to  see  how  false  is  the  assumption.  For,  to 
begin  with,  pain  is  the  operation  of  law,  and  is  one 
safeguard  against  peril.  Look  at  it  in  regard  to  our 
own  daily  well-being.  Suppose  nothing  warned  you 
when  you  did  a  wrong  to  your  body.  Suppose  you 
could  eat  or  drink  without  any  sensation  of  fulness, 
or  any  pain  to  teach  you  the  error  of  gluttony.  What 
would  happen  ?  We  know  that  very  soon  death  would 
be  upon  us.  Pain  is  the  sense  which  interprets  our 
peril,  and  warns  us  against  errors  which  end  in  death. 
It  seizes  us  roughly,  and  touches  us  with  its  flaming 
sword ;  but  the  sharp  twinge  of  agony  prevents  a 
woise  thing  1  appening  to  us.  It  is  the  voice  of  law, 
which  sa}?,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou  go,  but  no  farther: 
for  be} end  this  lies  physical  extinction."  And  so  true 
is  this,  that  in  many  sickness cs,  when  pain  ceases,  it 
is  the  sign  that  hope  of  hfe  is  o\er.  Pain  is  the  sign 
tl  at  life  still  struj^gles  against  its  foes,  and  strains 
e\ery  nerve  for  victory.  But  when  a  sudden  blissful 
ease  shoots  through  the  wearied  frame,  and  the  sick 
man  says, ''  I  no  longer  suffer,"  the  wise  physician  turns 


JOB   ON  PESSIMISM.  191 

away  with  downcast  eyes :  he  knows  mortification  has 
set  in,  and  death  is  near. 

Or  look  at  it  in  regard  to  the  outer  world.  Suppose 
no  torture  warned  us  that  fire  burned,  how  could  we 
guard  against  it?  Now  we  are  warned,  and  therefore 
we  are  safe.  Pain  stands  like  a  wise  sentinel  at  all 
the  points  of  danger  in  the  path  we  take,  and  will  not 
let  us  pass  with  impunity.  It  warns  the  drunkard  of 
his  folly,  the  profligate  of  his  fatal  recklessness,  the 
mountain-climber  of  the  line  of  peril  which  he  may 
not  cross,  and  the  miner  of  the  danger  which  lies  in 
wait  for  him.  It  clutches  the  throat  of  the  miner  and 
the  athlete,  and  pushes  them  back  from  the  jaws  of 
death  ;  and  it  touches  the  heart,  the  head,  the  Hmb,  and 
nerve  of  the  drunkard,  and  reminds  him  that  a  worse 
thing  may  yet  befall  him.  Dismiss  that  sentinel ;  then 
what  happens  ?  The  man  is  doomed.  The  red  flag 
of  peril  is  removed,  and  he  goes  on  to  his  fate  un- 
warned. There  is  no  one  to  warn  him  back  from  the 
pit  of  destruction,  on  whose  brink  he  stands  defence- 
less. In  other  words,  pain  is  the  armour  of  safety  in 
which  Gcd  has  clothed  mankind,  and  when  that  is 
lemoved,  man  stands  without  shelter  in  the  presence 
of  inevitable  death.  And  here  again  Job's  words  con? 
front  us  :  "As  the  sparks  fly  upward  ! "  In  the 
development  of  character  pain  is  one  of  the  greatest 
of  all  teachers.  It  does  not  crush  :  it  elevates.  It 
teaches  sympathy,  tenderness,  compassion.  It  refines 
the  heart,  and  sends  the  thoughts  of  men  flying  up- 
wards, like  the   bright  sparks  of  the  smith's  fire,  in 


192  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

which  the  shapeless  is  fashioned  into  youth  and  beauty, 
and  the  useless  into  grace  and  service.  On  beds  of 
pain  the  spirit  of  man  has  gained  its  clearest  visions 
of  God,  and  uttered  its  noblest  thoughts  about  Him. 
Beside  the  bed  of  pain  the  hands  of  man  have  been 
trained  to  their  wisest  tasks,  and  the  heart  has  been 
touched  with  the  great  purgation  of  a  Divine  compas- 
sion. How  much  poorer  the  world  would  be  without 
the  ministry  of  pain,  let  the  man  answer  who  can  con- 
ceive what  the  world  would  be  without  the  patience 
and  resignation  of  the  sick-room,  the  Christ-like  service 
of  the  hospital,  the  sedulous  and  self-sacrificing  tender- 
ness of  the  nurse.  Pain  is  a  fire  indeed,  not  penal,  but 
cleansing;  not  diabolical,  but  Divine;  and  through  it 
human  spirits  rise  into  the  vision  of  that  God,  whose 
only-begotten  Son  was  also  ''  the  Man  of  sorrows,  and 
acquainted  with  grief." 

III.  Or  take  the  idea  of  dissatisfaction^  and  here 
again  the  same  truth  is  taught.  Dissatisfaction,  as  the 
pessimist  interprets  it,  is  one  of  the  worst  curses  of  life. 
The  ideal  life  is  the  satislied  life.  The  ideal  life  should 
know  no  passionate  craving  or  restless  yearning.  It 
should  move  calmly,  and  with  invariable  pulses,  in 
meek  obedience  to  the  law  of  its  own  limitations.  Now 
man  is  tortured  with  the  restlessness  of  visionary  aims, 
and  impossible  hopes.     He 

**  looks  before  and  after, 
And  sighs  for  what  is  not. 
His  sincercst  laughter 
With  some  grief  is  fraught, 
His  swpetegt  spngs  are  those  that  tell  of  saddest  thought.** 


fOB   ON  PESSIMISM.  193 


He  cannot  be  content :  he  has  stolen  the  Promethean 
fire,   and    it   burns   in  him   with   a  devouring  energ3^ 
Or   so    he    says  :    inventing,   and    then    believing   idle 
myths,  to  justify  his  revolt   against  his   environment 
and  his  incurable  u^  happiness. 

In  the  ideal  world  of  pessimism  all  this  will  have 
entirely  disappeared.  And  with  it,  what  else  ?  For  dis- 
satisfaction is  the  secret  of  human  progress.  It  is 
dissatisfaction  with  filth  which  produces  cleanliness, 
dissatisfaction  with  savagery  which  leads  to  civilisa- 
tion, dissatisfaction  with  ignorance  which  kindles  the 
thirst  for  knowledge.  It  is  the  master-stop  of  the  great 
organ  on  which  the  noblest  music  of  the  world  has 
been  sounded.  It  breathes  alike  in  the  invocations  of 
the  saint  and  the  passion  of  the  poet.  It  is  the  cease- 
less impulse  pushing  man  on  to  be  more  and  better, 
greater  and  wiser,  than  he  is.  It  will  not  let  him 
rest  in  ignoble  ease.  It  passes  like  a  spirit  of  fire 
through  his  stagnation,  makes  him  leap  up  into  action. 
It  lures  him  on  and  on,  to  ever  greater  heights  of 
achievement,  and  deeds  of  nobler  victory.  It  quickens 
his  spirit  with  infinite  longings,  and  then  it  is  that  he 
becomes  the  seer,  the  saint,  the  prophet,  and  the  poet, 
whose  eye  sweeps  the  universe,  and  whose  thoughts 
find  no  resting-place  but  in  God.  Withdraw  that  sense 
of  dissatisfaction,  and  what  have  you  left  ?  You  have 
left  the  life  and  habitudes  of  the  beast.  The  beasts 
rise  no  higher,  because  they  have  not  this  impulse  of 
dissatisfaction  ;  and  man,  without  it,  would  become  even 
as  the  cattle.     Born  to  dissatisfaction  indeed  we  are ; 

13 


194  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

bu.  see,  the  sparks  fly  upward  !  Man's  discontent  is 
the  wing  of  his  spirit,  the  impulse  which  gives  him 
power  to  soar.  His  thoughts  then  become  prayers,  his 
desires  great  purposes,  his  yearnings  Divine  achieve- 
ments. He  is  dissatisfied  with  his  environment,  because 
he  is  greater  than  his  environment,  and  his  dissatis- 
faction is  the  evidence  of  his  greatness.  Withdraw 
that,  and  his  soul  has  passed  out  of  him,  and  he  is 
but  an  animal.  Foster  it,  and  the  spirit  grows  within 
him  till  he  cries,  ''  God  is  my  refuge  and  my  strength. 
Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee,  and  who  upon  the 
earth  is  like  unto  Thee  ?  I  shall  awake  in  Thine  image, 
and  be  satisfied  !  " 

And  so  in  rela'ion  to  those  anxieties  and  conflicts  of 
life,  which  we  often  speak  of  as  trouble,  it  will  be  found 
I  hat  out  of  them  we  emerge  stronger  and  better,  and 
the  tendency  is  upward.  Take,  for  instance,  the  cares 
and  burdens  of  motherhood.  At  the  gates  of  mother- 
hood Death  stands  on  guard,  yet  not  the  less  mother- 
hood is  desired  by  every  woman's  heart,  and  is  counted 
an  unspeakable  bless'ng.  And  why  is  this?  It  is 
because  motherhood  is  the  broadening  and  fruition  of 
the  woman's  nature,  and  is  the  cleansing  and  consecra- 
tion of  her  affections.  But  it  implies  heavy,  and  almost 
endless  burdens,  beyond  this  peril  of  death  and  anguish 
of  birth.  The  mother's  hands  are  never  still,  her  task 
is  never  done,  her  vigilance  never  asleep.  Her  days 
pass  in  the  perpetual  round  of  small  recurrent  duties, 
and  for  years  the  true  mother,  whose  means  are  small 
and  family  large,  must  needs  be  the  willing  drudge  of 


JOB   OiV   PESSIMISM.  195 


her  children.  But  what  is  the  effect  of  such  sacred 
drudgery  ?  Does  it  deprave  and  narrow  the  heart  ? 
Does  it  take  the  sunHght  out  of  Ufe  ?  No,  the  sparks 
fly  upward.  The  woman's  nature  fulfils  its  highest 
possibiHties  in  faithful  motherhood.  She  finds  a 
sunlight  in  her  children's  smiles,  and  a  music  in  their 
laughter,  which  sun  could  never  shed,  nor  the  skill  of 
harp  and  dulcimer  produce  upon  the  ear.  The  children, 
with  all  their  querulous  demands  upon  her  patience, 
are  nevertheless  to  her  as  messengers  from  God,  who 
call  the  thought  up  higher;  and  every  night,  as  she 
bends  over  the  little  cot,  and  kisses  the  tumbled  gold 
upon  the  pillow,  she  counts  herself  blessed  among 
women  for  the  joy  that  God  has  sent  her.  Yes  ;  let  us 
grant  that  motherhood  is  toil  and  care,  and  is  purchased 
at  the  price  of  pain  and  peril,  nevertheless  it  works  out 
the  purification  of  human  nature,  and  is  the  consecration 
and  coveted  goal  of  human  love.  It  does  not  depress, 
but  elevates,  human  nature :  the  sparks  fly  upward." 

Let  us  hear  then  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter. 
Trouble  "does  not  spring  out  of  the  ground,"  says 
Job.  That  is  to  say,  we  are  not  the  victims  of  blind 
chance,  though  in  our  darker  hours  we  are  apt  to 
think  so.  A  Power  is  fashioning  us,  we  know  not  how. 
See  how  yonder  mountain  is  made.  First  of  all,  if  we 
have  strength  of  imagination  to  look  back  far  enough, 
we  see  the  rolling  back  of  some  abysmal  sci,  and  the 
emergence  of  the  rude  shapes  which  the  ebb  and  flow 
of  mighty  waters  ha\e  beaten  into  isolation  and  con- 
sistency.    Then  come  long  ages  during  which  the  ice 


196  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

reigns,  and  the  darkness  and  sterility  of  death  and 
desolation  is  over  all.  Then  at  last  a  new  movement 
is  begun,  and  the  great  ploughshare  of  the  glacier  begins 
to  work,  and  to  drive  its  way  onward  to  the  plains  that 
lie  below,  splintering  the  solid  granite  as  it  goes,  and 
rounding  it  into  a  thousand  strange  and  shattered 
shapes  of  fantastic  novelty.  Every  year  now  the 
mountain  changes  shape  :  the  tempests  beat  upon  it, 
and  wash  away  its  soil ;  the  fiery  bolts  of  the  lightning 
burn  along  its  grim  serrated  front;  the  hurricane 
drives  across  its  brow,  and  the  frost  chips  and  fashions 
it,  as  with  the  uptiring  strokes  of  an  incessant  chisel. 
At  last  there  comes  an  hour  when  the  process  is 
complete,  and  upon  some  summer's  evening  we  stand 
and  look  upon  it,  and  see  the  sunset  clothe  it  with  a 
purple  magic,  and  watch  the  waning  light  transforming 
and  transfiguring  it,  till  at  last  the  glorious  enchantment 
is  complete,  and  the  cressets  of  the  stars  shine  over  it 
like  watchfires  signalling  the  triumph  of  some  mighty 
cause :  and  we  say,  "  Now  we  know  what  a  mountain 
is,  and  understand  what  the  Psalmist  meant  when  he 
talked  of  looking  to  the  everlasting  hills,  from  whence 
came  his  strength ! "  What  Power  has  shaped  that 
mountain  ?  The  Power  of  law.  What  Power  is 
shaping  us  ?  The  Power  of  love.  There  is  no  malice 
in  its  work,  no  mercilessness  ;  every  stroke  of  the  chisel 
is  needed  in  the  process,  if  the  shape  of  beauty  may 
emerge  at  last.  The  whole  process  is  for  us  an 
upward  process,  and  the  glory  of  its  consummation 
justifies   the   sorrow   and   the   patience.      Out   of  the 


/OB   ON  PESSIMISM.  197 


ground  ?  Trouble  the  mere  caprice  and  spite  of  blind 
unseeing  chance?  No;  a  Mind  is  there;  a  Heart 
is  therfe  I 

"Let  us  be  patient!    These  severe  afflictions 
Not  from  the  ground  arise, 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 
Assume  this  dark  disguise." 

Finally,  then,  we  should  embrace  any  and  every 
agency  likely  to  make  us  better  men  and  women. 
That  is  a  final  test,  and  a  complete  one. 

Would  absence  of  labour,  or  pain,  or  dissatisfaction 
be  good  or  ill  for  us  ?  If  ill,  the  theory  of  the  pessimist 
stands  utterly  condemned.  But  if  labour  gives  patience, 
and  sorrow  teaches  faith,  and  dissatisfaction  breeds 
Divine  aspiration,  hard  and  sharp  as  the  tools  that 
shape  us  are,  let  us  welcome  them.  The  one  thing  we 
have  to  do  is  to  become  like  God.  The  one  ambition 
worth  fulfilling  is  that.  In  a  few  years  it  will  matter 
very  little  whether  we  laboured  or  rested,  rejoiced  or 
sorrowed  ;  but  it  will  matter  everything  whether  our 
life  on  earth  lifted  us  to  the  life  of  heaven  or  no. 

Keep  the  thought  fixed  on  that.  Put  that  supreme 
aim  before  you,  and  then  welcome  any  discipline  that 
will  help  you  to  becom.e  ''  perfect,  even  as  your  Father 
which  is  in  heaven  is  perfect." 


XI. 

NATHAN  AND  DAVID. 
"Thou  art  the  man." — 2  Sam.  xii.  7» 

THE  literature  of  the  world  probably  contains  no 
more  pitiably  human  story  than  the  story  of 
David's  great  sin.  The  man  who  can  gloat  over  it 
with  heated  passion  is  an  animal;  the  man  who  can 
laugh  at  it  with  malicious  cynicism  is  a  fiend.  It  is 
one  of  those  sad  and  lamentable  stories  which  make 
us  ashamed  of  our  passions,  which  make  us  feel  a 
sort  of  degradation  in  the  possession  of  desires  which 
can  be  potent  with  such  infernal  mischief,  and  can  lead 
to  such  foul  and  tragic  consequences.  As  we  read  the 
story  we  are  ashamed  of  human  nature,  and  it  is  not 
difficult  to  despair  of  it.  "  If,"  we  say,  "  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,  a  man  so  true,  so  valiant,  so  heroically 
manly,  could  fall  so  deeply,  who  is  safe  in  the  presence 
of  temptation  ? "  One  can  readily  understand  how 
such  a  story  as  this  might  fascinate  and  terrify  a 
sensitive  nature,  till  the  only  way  of  escape  seemed 
celibacy,  and  the  only  true  method  of  life  a  monastic 
isolation  from  temptation. 

But  presently  sturdier  and  calmer  thoughts   return 
to  us,  and  then  we  instinctively  perceive  that  isolation 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID,  199 

is  no  remedy.  It  is  the  retreat  of  the  coward,  not 
the  victory  of  a  brave  man.  The  mischief  is  within 
us  :  it  is  simply  the  accident  of  circumstance  which 
develops  it.  It  is  at  once  futile  and  foolish  to  quarrel 
with  the  elementary  facts  of  our  nature :  the  pas- 
sions are  as  truly  a  part  of  ourselves  as  the  intellect 
and  spirit.  It  was  no  deficiency  of  intellectual  per- 
ception which  made  passion  triumphant  for  a  single 
damning  moment  over  the  nature  of  David.  There 
are  cases  where  the  intellectual  faculties  are  so  much 
less  than  the  physical,  that  men  commit  the  grossest 
sins  of  the  flesh  without  any  adequate  realisation  of 
the  degradation  they  incur.  But  the  sin  of  David  was 
the  sin  of  a  savage  committed  by  a  saint.  It  was  a  ter- 
rible and  sudden  outbreak  of  the  lower  nature  in  a  man 
who  had  for  years  sedulously  cultivated  the  spiritual 
nature,  and  it  is  that  which  makes  it  so  tragically 
significant.  It  was  in  fact  one  of  those  sins  of  surprise 
by  which  really  noble  natures  are  suddenly  swept 
away,  and  to  which  the  noblest  are  liable.  I  am  not 
speaking  to  men  in  whom  savage  and  passionate  in- 
stincts are  dominant,  with  whom  gross  desire  is  the 
law  of  life,  and  the  gratification  of  desire  the  joy  of  life. 
I  am  speaking  to  men  accustomed  to  the  restraints 
of  civilisation,  acknowledging  the  royalty  of  goodness, 
conscious  of  the  crown  of  honour  which  chastity  con- 
fers on  human  nature  ;  and  it  is  for  you  this  story  is 
so  full  of  warning.  So  full  of  warning  :  why  ?  Be- 
cause David  acknowledged  these  very  truths  and  forces, 
and  yet  committed  one  of  the  cowardliest  and  foulest 


200  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

sins  on  record.  It  fills  us  with  astonishment  and 
horror.  We  ask,  Hov/  could  he  do  it  ?  What  made 
it  possible  for  him  suddenly  to  fall  into  such  horrible 
sensuality  and  crime?  It  is  that  question  which  is 
answered  in  the  touching  parable  of  Nathan.  With 
the  sure  analysis  of  spiritual  insight  the  whole  drama 
of  the  fall  of  David  is  here  laid  bare.  Let  us  mark 
the  story :  God  help  us  to  learn  its  lessons. 

The  first  fact  revealed  by  Nathan  is,  then,  that  such 
a  sin  as  D2iV\d's>  sprmgs  from  selfishness ;  for  the  man 
who  spares  to  take  of  his  own  flock,  and  steals  the  poor 
man's  one  ewe  lamb,  is  the  type  of  the  basest  selfish- 
ness. Now  by  common  consent  the  highest  ideal  of 
manhood  is  unselfish.  Why  is  it  that  we  enthrone 
in  the  highest  immortality  of  fame  the  patriot  and 
martyr,  the  man  who  toils  for  men  and  the  man  who 
dies  for  men  ?  It  is  because  we  reverence  their  sub- 
lime unselfishness.  They  quietly  put  down  the  lower 
forces  of  their  nature  and  obeyed  the  higher.  They 
reached  a  noble  altitude  of  spiritual  development  which 
to  us  seems  miraculous  and  unattainable.  There  is  no 
real  hero  who  has  survived  in  the  reverence  of  mankind 
of  whom  it  is  not  true  that  his  sublime  unselfishness 
made  him  supreme.  Any  stain  upon  a  character  like 
this  is  like  a  blow  which  falls  upon  our  own  hearts. 
Imperfect  as  we  are,  we  are  conscious  of  what  perfec- 
tion is;  and  impotent  as  we  are,  we  still  struggle  to 
achieve  it.  We  may  stand  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain 
among  the  common  crowd  who  never  get  beyond  its 
lower  slopes,  but  at  least  our  eyes  can  yearn  toward  the 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID.  201 


sunlit  crags  we  do  not  climb ;  and  we  can  perceive  the 
dignity  of  those  who  stand  upon  the  summit,  and  dis- 
cern how  it  was  they  triumphed,  and  how  it  is  we  fail. 

Now  jvrt  as  unselfishness  is  the  true  triumph  of 
life,  so  selfishness  is  the  degradation  of  life,  and  is  the 
secret  of  its  failure.  Reduce  sin  to  its  primal  elements, 
the  last  result  is  always  selfishness.  Begin  where 
you  will  among  those  common  and  well-known  sins 
and  defects  of  habit,  whose  nature  is  perfectly  ascer- 
tainable by  sad  experience  and  bitter  knowledge,  and 
see  if  this  be  not  true.  Take,  for  instance,  temper. 
That  is  a  common  sin  enough.  There  are  thousands  of 
households  wrecked  by  the  ungovernable  irritability 
of  an  individual.  He  cannot  restrain  his  tongue. 
The  slightest  provocation  produces  an  explosion.  Then 
follows  a  torrent  of  bitter,  biting,  sarcastic  words, 
which  fill  the  air  like  a  cloud  of  poisoned  arrows,  and 
rankle  in  the  wounded  heart  long  after  the  careless 
archer  has  gone  upon  his  way  and  forgotten  them. 
You  may  explain  that  phenomenon  by  euphemistic  talk 
about  a  hasty  nature,  or  the  irritability  of  genius,  or 
what  you  will ;  but  the  real  root  of  it  lies  in  the  un- 
regenerate  selfishness  of  the  man's  nature.  Because 
passionate  sarcasm  is  a  momentary  relief  to  his  nervous 
irritation,  he  indulges  in  it.  The  essence  of  unselfish- 
ness is  to  realise  what  another  feels,  to  interpret  his 
needs,  to  share  his  thoughts  by  the  revealing  power  of 
sympathy,  to  be  able  instinctively  to  understand  what 
will  wound  or  grieve,  and  to  exercise  a  severe  self- 
reprcLsion   to    avoid   it.     But   the   angry  man   has   no 


202  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

such  realisation  of  the  nature  of  others,  and  cannot 
understand  the  havoc  which  his  hasty  words  produce. 
He  is  simply  conscious  of  himself,  of  his  own  wrongs 
and  discomforts,  and  just  as  one  man  flies  to  drink,  or 
another  to  dissipation,  to  relieve  his  misery,  so  he  flies 
to  the  undiscerning  wrath  of  hasty  words.  If  you  are 
a  violent-tempered  man,  learn  to  be  unselfish,  and  that 
will  teach  you  to  restrain  yourself,  and  to  be  pitiful 
one  with  another,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as  God 
for  Christ's  sake  hath  forgiven  you. 

Now  if  this  be  a  correct  analysis  of  mere  hasty 
temper,  which  seems  far  removed  from  the  region  of 
vice,  how  much  truer  is  it  of  indulgence  in  carnal 
passions  I  "  The  one  ewe  lamb" — most  pathetic,  most 
powerful  image  !  Here  is  a  man  blest  with  all  human 
blessings — riches,  fame,  honour,  provision  for  all  the 
natural  desires  of  the  flesh,  for  whom  no  healthy  wish 
goes  unsatisfied,  no  want  unmet;  a  great  captain,  a 
great  king,  with  intellectual  resources  such  as  few 
kings  have  ever  known ;  loved,  powerful,  idolised  ;  but 
but  there  is  a  poor  man  at  his  gate  with  one  ewe  lamb, 
and  the  king  covets  it.  The  madness  and  delirium  of 
desire  begin  to  riot  in  his  blood,  and  he  must  have 
it  !  To  the  thick  vision  of  his  lust  adultery  is  no  sin, 
and  killing  no  murder.  When  did  the  man  in  whom 
the  brute  was  master  ever  stop  to  count  consequences  ? 
What  is  it  to  him  that  the  one  ewe  lamb  is  all  the  poor 
man  has  ?  What  cares  he  that  the  poor  man  has  nou- 
rished it,  and  round  it  the  tendrils  of  his  heart  are 
bound,   and   in    that   deep   affection   all    his   peace   of 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID.  203 


mind  and  all  his  pride  of  life  are  centred  ?  "  The 
one  ewe  lamb,"  the  one  daughter  of  the  house,  the  one 
hope  and  pride  of  some  honest  man's  heart,  the  one 
light  and  joy  of  his  hard  existence,  innocent,  helpless, 
defenceless,  at  the  mercy  of  a  rich  man  who  desires  to 

"  Dower  her  with  shame, 
With  a  sort  of  infamous  fame." 

Alas  I  it  is  a  picture  which  needs  no  elucidation.    There 
is  no  mercy  in  the  profligate  ;  there  is  nothing  which 
so  sears  and  deadens  a  man's  heart  as  lust.     There  is 
nothing  in  this  spectacle  of  cottage  peace,  this  pure  and 
contented  innocence,  to  move  the  profligate  when  once 
his  eye  has  shot  its  evil  fire  of  impure  coveting  towards 
this  unpolluted  dwelHng  which  love  has  made  a  home. 
^'The  one  ewe  lamb;"  and,  says  Nathan,  with  grim 
emphasis,    it  is    to    be   slain    to    feed    the    rich    man's 
appetite,  for  that  is  what  it  means.     There  is  no  death 
but  sin,  and  this  fair  innocence  is  to  be  slain,  this  pure 
Hfe  is  to  be   blasted,  to  gratify  the  covetous   appetite 
of  a  tyrannous  rich  man.     Does  not  some  lurid  light  of 
revelation  begin  to  break  upon  the  mind  of  David  as 
the  prophet  speaks?     Does  he  not  begin   to  perceive 
what  he  means — that  the  lamb  means  innocence,  and 
that    it  is   innocence,  the  modesty  and  chastity  of  an 
uncorrupted    nature,    modesty    once    gone    and    gone 
for  ever,  that  he  has  sacrificed  to  his  guilty  passion  ? 
''  The  one  ewe  Iamb  !"     Does  not  our  imagination,  and 
perhaps  our  guilty  conscience,  interpret  all  it  means  ? 
Do  we  not  see,  as  in  some  dream  of  horror  and  amaze- 
ment, in  some  happy  British  home  the  fair  bright  fa-e 


204  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

of  the  one  ewe  lamb,  the  destined  victim  of  the  spoiler, 
for  whom  shame  and  anguish  wait,  and  whom  the  dark- 
ness and  corruption  of  wicked  cities  shall  swallow  up, 
and  hide  away  in  obscure  and  voiceless  infamy  ?  Oh, 
do  I  speak  to  one  who  has  committed  such  a  wrong  as 
this  ?  Let  him  tremble.  Do  I  speak  to  one  who  has 
stood  upon  the  verge  of  such  a  sin  ?  Let  him  loathe, 
and  hate,  and  despise  himself.  Let  the  vision  of  that 
one  ewe  lamb  rise  before  him,  as  the  vision  of  the  slain 
Lamb  of  God,  all  pallid,  dust-smeared,  bleeding,  shall 
rise  in  the  Judgment  Day  before  the  eyes  of  them  who 
slew  Him,  in  the  hour  when  all  nations  of  the  earth 
shall  wail  because  of  Him !  The  Lamb  of  God — the 
poor  man's  one  ewe  lamb — shall  not  Christ  com- 
passionate this  poor  slain  innocence,  and  avenge  His 
own  elect  who  cry  unto  Him  day  and  night  ?  Yes, 
His  own  elect,  elected  to  a  purity  man  has  made 
impossible ;  to  a  love  man  has  forbidden ;  to  the 
honour  of  a  wholesome  life  man  has  devastated  and 
destroyed — oh  !  do  not  their  wasted  faces  float  up- 
ward, pale  and  ghastly,  on  the  bitter  sea  of  tears,  and 
their  dying  voices  moan  into  the  ears  of  Him  who 
made  the  heavens?  This  is  the  work  of  selfishness. 
This  is  the  most  terrific  exposition  of  what  selfishness 
can  do  in  human  life.  Reduce  the  diamond  to  its 
elements,  it  is  soot ;  reduce  such  sin  as  this  to  its  ele- 
ments, and,  brilliant  and  alluring  as  it  may  look  to  the 
fevered  fancy — see,  it  is  blackness  at  the  core,  the  most 
diabolical  and  damnable  of  all  sins  which  a  man  can 
commit  1     And    again    I   say,   if  you    would  be  proof 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID.  205 

against  such  crime  as  this,  there  is  but  one  way — by 
overcoming  self,  by  rising  into  that  Christlike  purity 
of  manhood  which  is  infinite  in  sympathy,  in  tendei- 
ness,  in  thought  for  others,  to  which  the  thought  of 
another's  pain  is  intolerable,  and  another's  shame  an 
agony  worse  than  death. 

But  it  is  not  merely  the  selfishness,  it  is  the  deceit- 
fulness  of  sin  which  is  illustrated  here.  We  can  picture 
David  listening  to  Nathan's  story,  with  a  keen  sense 
of  its  artistic  truth,  its  imaginative  force,  its  dramatic 
power,  and  thrilling  with  sympathetic  admiration  as 
he  listens.  And  the  most  striking  moral  lesson  in  the 
whole  narrative,  perhaps,  is  that  David  does  not  appear 
to  have  realised  what  his  own  sin  was  like  till  it  was 
interpreted  to  him  by  the  lesser  sin  of  another  man. 
There  is  a  dreadful  power  in  unresisted  evil  to  stupefy 
the  moral  sense.  Thrust  your  hand  rapidly  first  into 
hot  water  and  then  into  cold,  and  do  so  many  times, 
and  presently  you  are  unable  to  detect  which  is  hot 
and  which  is  cold.  The  sensitive  nerve  grows  callous, 
and  its  discernment  is  destroyed.  So  a  man  may  ex- 
periment with  sin  till  he  feels  no  instinctive  recoil 
from  its  abiding  horror.  The  moral  sense  is  like  some 
delicate  and  sensitive  instrument,  which  indicates  with 
perfect-  accuracy  the  tendencies  of  conduct  so  long  as  it 
is  untampered  with  ;  but  once  wronged  its  power  is  gone. 
It  is  Uke  putting  the  clock  back  because  we  do  not 
wish  to  know  the  hour ;  the  clock  goes  on  working, 
but  henceforth  all  its  results  are  wrong.  So  the  moral 
sense  still  works,  but  it  strikes  the  wrong  hour.     It 


2o6  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

tells  US  what  we  want  to  hear,  not  what  we  need  tc 
hear,  and  what  we  know  is  true.  Who  has  not  been 
made  conscious  of  this  pliant  perversion  of  the  moral 
sense  ?  You  have  not  desired  to  believe  a  thing 
wrong,  and  you  have  soon  succeeded  in  believing  it 
almost  right.  You  have  first  shaped  your  conduct, 
and  then  invented  theories  to  justify  your  conduct. 
The  justification  of  conduct  rarely  precedes  the  sin ; 
men  first  sin,  and  then  seek  to  justify  their  sin.  Look 
back,  young  man,  to  that  dark  and  well-remembered 
hour  which  has  wrought  such  havoc  in  your  life,  and 
tell  me  if  I  do  not  chronicle  your  life  aright  when  I 
sketch  it  thus.  First  came  the  divine  shock  of  shame, 
the  keen  consciousness  of  wrong,  the  perfect  truth 
told  upon  the  clock  of  conscience ;  then,  when  the  deed 
was  done,  followed  the  justification  of  the  sin,  and 
that  process  has  gone  on  till  some  of  you  are  now 
ready  to  argue  that  sins  such  as  yours  are  venial  and 
not  to  be  avoided,  and  indeed  are  excused,  and  ought 
to  be  excused,  by  all  reasonable  men  of  the  world. 
You  have  put  the  clock  back,  and  that  is  why  you 
cannot  tell  me  the  hour.  That  is  precisely  what  David 
did.  There  was  doubtless  no  trace  of  remorse  or 
shame  in  David's  face  when  Nathan  began  his  parable. 
He  had  justified  his  sin,  and  the  drugged  conscience 
was  fast  asleep.  It  was  not  until  the  stern  hand  of  the 
prophet  put  the  clock  right,  and  it  struck  with  a  tone 
that  rang  like  the  bell  of  judgment  through  the  whole 
nature  of  the  guilty  king,  that  he  saw  the  abasing 
vision  of  his  own  vileness,  and  cried,  in  the  bitter  horror 


NATHAN  AND   DAVID.  707 

of  that  revealing  moment,  '^  I  have  sinned  against  the 
Lord." 

How  true  and  striking  this  aspect  of  our  subject  is 
our  own  experience  testifies.  Watch  how  angry  David 
grows  as  Nathan's  story  is  told.  He  is  the  very  incar- 
nation of  indignant  justice.  He  is  absolutely  eager  to 
punish  the  selfish  scoundrel  who  has  injured  the  poor 
man.  The  spoiler  eager  to  punish  the  spoliator  ?  The 
villain  burning  with  a  fine  sense  of  angry  justice 
against  the  lesser  villain  ?  It  is  even  so.  We  can 
pluck  out  the  mote  from  our  brother's  eye,  and  be 
utterly  regardless  of  the  beam  in  our  own.  We  can 
pass  sentence  and  applaud  judgment  on  the  cruelty  of 
another,  but  our  own  cruelty  we  do  not  even  perceive. 
It  is  not  until  some  prophet  focuses  the  light  of  judg- 
ment on  our  act,  and  puts  before  us  what  such  sins  as 
ours  work  in  other  spheres  and  other  lives;  it  is  not 
until  we  see  our  ungovernable  temper  reflected  in  the 
awful  spectacle  of  the  man  upon  the  gallows,  whose 
passion  has  carried  him  just  a  point  beyond  our 
own ;  till  we  see  our  self-indulgence  vividly  illustrated  in 
some  broken  drunkard  shambling  down  to  his  obscure 
and  shameful  grave ;  till  our  solitary  carnality  takes  a 
living,  leprous  shape  and  form  in  the  corroding  vice 
which  poisons  all  the  world  with  its  reek  of  horror ;  till 
our  individual  impurity  stands  typified  in  the  wasted 
face  of  some  wronged  and  shameful  woman,  lifted 
towards  ours  in  dumb  reproach  beneath  the  city  gas- 
light ; — it  is  not  until  this  happens  that  the  real  truth 
about  ourselves  flashes  on  us,  and  the  cry  of  Nathan, 


20^  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD, 

"Thou  art  the  man!"  terrifies  us  with  its  heart- search- 
ing accusation.  And  the  accusation  is  true — you  cannot 
deny  it.  That  infinite  hell  of  human  corruption  into 
which  thousands  of  poor  wretches  drop  off  every  hour, 
pushed  out  of  the  ways  of  human  honour,  overwhelmed 
with  the  black  waves  of  infamy  and  anguish, — that 
is  your  doing,  O  young  man,  sinning  against  purity 
to-day !  Thou  art  the  man !  The  wave  of  shame 
recoils  on  you,  and  covers  you  with  its  darkness.  The 
vast  agony  and  horror  of  that  shameful  side  of  human 
life  we  dare  hardly  name  accuses  you,  and  a  million 
fingers  of  the  wronged  and  lost  through  all  the  ages 
point  against  you,  and  their  lips  wail  out  your  name. 
No  man  liveth  to  himself,  none  dieth  to  himself,  and 
in  the  death  of  your  purity  the  innocence  of  others 
has  perished.  Numbers  will  not  conceal  you,  solitude 
cannot  cover  you,  exile  cannot  hide  you  ;  the  blackness 
of  the  night  is  as  the*  light  about  you  ;  and  like  that 
avenging  finger  which  pointed  from  the  heavens  to 
the  spilt  blood  of  Abel,  the  finger  of  Him  to  whom  the 
darkness  is  as  the  light  points  you  out,  and  His  voice, 
pealing  from  the  chambers  of  eternity,  cries,  "  Thou  art 
the  man !  "  God  forgive  the  man  who  has  doomed  any 
human  soul  to  the  long  searing  agony  of  a  slain  inno- 
cence. But  to  be  forgiven  the  conscience  must  first  be 
roused.  A  roan  must  perceive  what  he  has  done.  He 
must  reahse  that  his  solitary  sin  has  added  something 
to  the  weight  of  that  intolerable  load  which  crushes 
down  as  in  a  living  grave  the  blighted  lives  of  multi- 
tudes.    He  must  perceive  that  the  cruelty  of  him  who 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID.  209 

takes  the  one  ewe  lamb,  "  and  has  no  pity,"  is  akin  to 
the  cruelty  in  his  own  heart ;  that  by  whatever  dazzling 
name  he  has  called  his  sin,  it  was  nothing  but  base, 
devilish,  hideous  cruelty,  such  as  a  man  might  well  be 
content  to  die  in  atonement  for,  if  by  his  death  he  could 
restore  what  he  has  taken.  Oh,  terrible  yet  healing 
hour,  when  a  man  sees  himself  as  he  is,  in  all  his 
unrecognised  baseness  and  unremembered  vileness, 
and  cries,  with  breaking  heart,  "  I  am  indeed  the  man  ; 
God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ! " 

And  once  more  we  are  taught  the  Divine  supremacy 
of  conscience.  What  was  it  made  Nathan  so  fearless  ? 
Why  was  it  the  king  quailed  before  his  subject,  whose 
life  was  altogether  in  his  hand  ?  We  know  well  why 
it  was.  It  is  the  ancient  spectacle,  repeated  in  precise 
form  when  Elijah  stops  the  chariot  of  Ahab,  and  John 
denounces  Herod  to  his  face,  and  John  Knox  thunders 
in  the  court  of  Mary  Stuart.  '  We  know  that  "  con- 
science doth  make  cowards  of  us  all."  We  know  that 
a  man  standing  on  the  right  is  mightier  than  kings, 
and  that  kinghood  is  impotent  before  such  a  man  when 
kinghood  is  defiled.  It  was  a  pure  conscience  animated 
Nathan  with  dignity,  and  clothed  him  with  a  Divine 
royalty;  it  was  an  evil  conscience  which  made  David 
cower  and  tremble  before  his  servant  like  a  beaten 
hound.  Some  of  you  may  perhaps  smile  at  this  talk 
of  conscience.  The  hour  of  your  awakening  has  not 
yet  come — my  voice  does  not  penetrate  your  heart. 
But  there  is  an  hour  when  a  voice  mightier  than  mine 
will  speak ;  when  in  the  solitude  of  sickness  strange 


2IO  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

thoughts  and  memories  will  perplex  the  mind  ;  when 
in  the  embittered  loneliness  of  an  unloved  life,  the  sun 
going  down  while  it  is  yet  day  perchance,  strange  foot- 
steps will  seem  to  move  about  the  house,  and  '^  in  the 
dead  unhappy  night,  when  the  rain  is  on  the  roof," 
strange  yet  remembered  voices  will  fill  the  ears ;  when, 
in  the  hour  of  death,  from  the  grave  of  the  unforgiven 
past  strange  shapes  will  rise,  and  throng  about  the 
dying  bed,  and  WTing  their  hands,  and  shriek  their 
curses  on  you,  and  cry,  "  Despair  and  die ! "  And 
then  you  will  know  what  conscience  is.  You.  will  know 
what  a  tremendous  power  of  life  there  is  in  it,  and 
how  it  can  suddenly  subdue  and  defy  us,  like  a  spring 
held  back  by  force  for  years,  which  at  last  mocks  our 
failing  strength,  and  leaps  up  in  derisive  mastery.  And 
there  is  an  hour  beyond  that,  when  "  we  must  all  appear 
before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ,"  and  the  Voice 
before  which  heaven  and  earth  shall  flee  away  shall 
cry,  "  Thou  art  the  man  ! "  And  then  conscience  will 
become  a  terrific  force,  a  companion  who  cannot  be 
shaken  off",  a  living  terror  which  we  cannot  annihilate, 
while  the  Thou  art  the  man  of  God  rolls  like  thunder 
through  the  vast  darkness  which  closes  over  us,  and 
shuts  us  out  from  the  vision  and  companionship  of 
our  Father  who  is  in  heaven.  ^*  Blessed  are  the  pure  in 
heart,  for  they  shall  see  God  ; "  the  impure  shall  not 
see  life,  *'  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  them." 

Finally,  we  have  lessons  of  retribution  and  reparation 
here.  There  is  forgiveness,  but  it  is  not  possible 
without   retribution  and  reparation.      God's   curse   is 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID  ail 


to  fall  on  the  house  of  David,  and  he  who  has  slain 
the  innocence  of  the  mother  is  to  witness  that  saddest 
of  all  sights,  the  dying  of  his  own  innocent  little  child. 
And  in  some  way — in  bitter  memory  if  not  in  public 
shame  ;  in  lifelong  humiliation  before  God  if  not  in 
physical  results  of  disease  and  sorrow — we  must  be 
punished  for  sin.  There  is  no  salvation  which  promises 
escape  from  that.  It  is  for  God  to  measure  that 
punishment,  and  appoint  its  methods  ;  let  us  be  glad 
that  it  is  not  man  who  judges  us  and  afflicts  us.  If 
we  are  sincerely  penitent  we  shall  not  seek  to  escape 
punishment.  Nor  shall  we  forget  that  it  is  for  us  to 
do  what  we  can  in  reparation  of  our  error.  Do  not 
pray  to  be  forgiven  and  reinstated  till  you  have  done 
that.  Let  him  who  has  stolen  not  merely  steal  no 
more,  but  restore  fourfold.  Let  the  cruel  and  pas- 
sionate man  humble  himself  before  his  victim.  Let 
the  man  who  once  fell  into  impurity  give  up  his  life 
to  rescuing  the  impure.  God  will  not  destroy  while 
fulfilment  is  possible ;  let  us  seek  to  fulfil  in  sacrifice 
for  the  world  what  we  nearly  destroyed  in  our  wrong 
done  against  the  world.  Are  you  penitent  ?  Do  you 
see  as  you  never  saw  before  the  hideousness  of  your 
sin  ?  Is  your  heart  broken  at  the  vision  ?  Listen 
then  to  the  words  of  the  kingly  penitent,  written  pro- 
bably in  those  bitter  hours  when  he  mourned  over  his 
dying  child,  and  bowed  before  God  :  "  The  sacrifices 
of  God  are  a  broken  spirit,  a  broken  and  contrite  heart 
Thou  wilt  not  despise.  Hide  Thy  face  from  my  sins, 
and  blot  out  my  iniquities.     Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 


212  THE    THRESHOLD    OF  MANHOOD. 

0  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me.  Restore 
unto  me  the  joy  of  Thy  salvation.  Then  will  I  teach 
transgressors  the  way,  and  sinners  shall  be  converted 
unto  Thee." 

Young  men,  I  have  specially  addressed  you  because 

1  know  that  the  temptations  to  unchastity  in  a  great 
city  are  numerous  and  incessant.  I  bid  you  remember 
that  an  impure  man  is  as  shameful  as  an  impure 
woman,  and  should  receive  the  same  treatment ;  nor 
will  he  find  any  difference  of  treatment  with  that  God 
who  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  The  woman  receives 
her  punishment  here  :  the  man  will  receive  his  here- 
after. You  are  and  will  be  daily  tempted  to  unchastity 
of  thought  and  imagination,  if  not  of  act,  and  therefore 
I  pray  you  keep  the  mind  pure.  Do  not  listen  to  the 
voice  of  unholy  seduction.  Learn  to  hate  impurity 
in  thought,  in  speech,  in  gesture,  in  suggestion,  in 
literature,  in  life,  with  an  invincible  abhorrence.  The 
crown  of  manhood  as  of  womanhood  is  chastity. 
Respect  and  guard  it  in  yourself  and  others  with  a 
sacred  vigilance.  And  to  those  who  have  fallen  into 
the  snare,  as  to  those  who  have  resisted  it,  I  preach 
Jesus  Christ:  Christ  in  His  purity.  His  tenderness, 
His  self-sacrifice,  as  the  type  of  perfect  manhood,  and 
I  bid  you  follow  Him.  In  Him  is  forgiveness  for  the 
fallen,  and  strength  for  the  tempted.  In  the  abiding 
sense  of  our  love  and  devotion  to  Him  is  the  best  safe- 
guard against  sensual  surprises,  and  the  best  impulse 
toward  the  service  of  humanity.  It  was  the  vision  of 
the  Holy  Grail  that  lifted  Sir  Galahad  into  supreme 


NATHAN  AND  DAVID.  213 


purity  and  steadfastness  of  manhood ;  it  is  the  vision 
of  the  living  Christ  Himself  that  inspires  us  ;  and  when 
that  blessed  Presence  is  an  abiding  presence  with  and 
in  us,  then,  and  then  alone,  our 

"  Strength  is  as  thf.  strength  often, 
Because  our  hearts  are  pure." 


XII. 

THE  IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH. 

"For  we  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth,  but  for  the  truth." — 
2  Cor.  xiii.  8. 

ST.  PAUL  is  writing  to  a  Church  in  which  grave 
disorders  have  arisen,  and  he  says  he  comes  with 
the  mandate  of  God,  and  will  not  spare.  He  views  the 
office  of  the  Christian  minister  as  not  only  persuasive 
but  judicial.  It  is  at  once  the  most  solemn,  the  most 
awful,  and  the  most  responsible,  which  any  human 
creature  can  assume ;  none  should  dare  to  assume 
it  except  upon  the  irresistible  call  of  God,  and  none 
who  understand  its  privilege  and  burden  rightly  will 
attempt  to  do  so  on  any  other  call.  The  issues  of  life 
and  death  for  multitudes  are  in  the  lips  of  the  Christian 
minister,  and  none  can  tell  how  far  his  lightest  word 
may  travel,  or  how  much  his  invisible  influence  may 
accomplish.  Words  are  like  the  feather-seed,  carried 
afar  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  over  busy  cities  and 
void  valleys,  but  sure  to  fall  at  last  and  spring  up  in 
prolific  harvest.  Influence  is  like  the  air  that  girds  us, 
— invisible,  but  stirred  by  the  slightest  sound  or  move- 
ment, and  multiplying  that  movement.  To  all  men 
the  power  of  speech  and  influence  belongs,  but  to  none 


IMPO TENCE  OF  RE  VOL  T  A  GAINST  THE  TR  UTH.     2 1 5 

in  more  solemn  degree  than  to  the  minister  of  Christ. 
Recreancy  on  his  part  is  disaster  to  the  whole  army 
of  God.  If  he  dares  not  smite  the  wicked,  if  he  is 
dumb  when  he  should  speak,  or  forgives  where  he 
should  judge,  or  judges  hastily  where  he  should  for- 
give, his  defection  weakens  the  whole  Church  of  God, 
and  what  is  sin  in  another  becomes  crime  in  him.  He 
is  specially  set  for  the  defence  of  the  Gospel,  and  should 
be  so  completely  under  the  guidance  of  the  constrain- 
ing love  of  Christ  that  he  has  the  right  to  say  :  "  I 
can  do  nothing  against  the  truth,  but  for  the  truth." 
He  is  the  vassal  of  the  truth,  and  the  measure  of  his 
consecration  is  the  measure  of  his  power. 

But  these  words  obviously  command  larger  issues 
than  any  which  are  personal  to  Paul :  they  involve 
great  facts  which  concern  all  men.  What  are  those 
facts  ?  Briefly  these  :  that  revolt  against  the  truth  is 
wholly  futile ;  but  that  submission  to  the  truth  is  the 
secret  of  peace  and  of  service. 

I.  The  futility  of  revolt  against  the  truth. — Now  there 
are  two  great  truths  against  which  the  world  has 
been  in  perpetual  revolt :  the  one  is  the  moral  truth  oi 
God's  government,  the  other  is  the  spiritual  truth 
of  God's  government  by  Jesus  Christ. 

(i)  The  moral  truth  of  Gods  government. — That  seems 
a  vague  and  frigid  phrase  :  let  us  try  to  translate  it 
into  living  fact.  What  does  it  mean?  What  does 
it  imply  ?  It  means  that  there  is  a  living  and  a  righ- 
teous God  ;  that  God's  righteousness  governs  the  world, 
and  that   all  the  strength  of  God  is  against  evil.     It 


2i6  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MAJSfHOOD. 

means  that  He  will  reward  righteousness  wherever  it 
is  found,  and  that  He  will  pursue  with  unfailing  retri- 
bution the  unjust,  the  unholy,  and  the  wicked.  That 
is  the  sublime  belief  uttered  in  every  page  of  the  Bible; 
it  is  announced  at  the  threshold  of  the  world  as  man 
crosses  it  into  the  life  of  action ;  it  is  elaborated  at 
Sinai ;  it  is  glorified  in  the  beatitudes  of  Jesus  ;  it  is 
the  last  note  of  the  Bible,  as  it  was  the  first,  enforced 
in  the  words  of  John  that  there  is  a  second  death,  and 
that  without  the  gates  of  life  are  thrust  the  adulterer, 
the  unclean,  and  whosoever  maketh  a  lie.  By  that 
belief  the  noblest  nations  have  lived,  and  the  noblest 
periods  of  history  have  been  the  periods  when  that 
belief  was  most  vigorously  held.  It  has  transformed 
slaves  into  peoples,  peoples  into  heroes,  heroes  into 
saints.  It  regenerated  Europe  through  the  voice  of 
Calvin,  as  afterward  it  regenerated  Scotland  by  the 
energy  and  faith  of  Knox,  and  England  by  the  voice 
and  deeds  of  Cromwell.  It  vibrates  in  every  word  of 
the  old  Hebrew  prophets,  and  is  the  foundation  of 
the  teaching  of  Christ.  There  is  a  God,  and  He  is  just ; 
His  sword  is  sharpened  against  iniquity.  He  rides 
upon  the  wings  of  the  wind,  and  the  thunder  and  the 
lightning  go  before  Him ;  He  maketh  wars  and  de- 
solations in  the  earth,  and  the  hills  shake  at  His 
presence  ;  He  is  **  angry  with  the  wicked  every  day  ;  ^, 
He  is  *' glorious  in  holiness,  fearful  in  praises,  doing 
wonders."  So  sang  Moses  beside  the  Red  Sea,  when 
he  had  looked  on  the  great  deliverance  God  had 
wrought ;  so  have  sung  the  innumerable  choir  of  just 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     217 

men  ever  since ;  so  sing  the  spirits  made  perfect  who 
are  before  the  throne,  for  even  there,  there  is  a  Song 
of  Moses  as  well  as  a  Song  of  the  Lamb,  the  song  of 
judgment  as  truly  as  the  song  of  love,  and  both  make 
one  music  in  the  ear  of  God. 

Brother,  do  you  accept  or  do  you  deny  that  truth  ? 
Denying  that  truth,  the  world  becomes  an  unintelligible 
riddle,  a  bitter  mystery,  a  fathomless  and  maddening 
problem.  Its  sun  is  put  out,  its  meaning  gone,  and  it 
swings  on  through  the  wide  spaces  of  the  firmament 
like  a  lost  star,  a  blind,  wandering  fragment  of  wreck 
and  chaos.  It  becomes  what  Carlyle  said  the  ma- 
terialists made  it — "a  mill  without  a  miller,"  whose 
wheels  turn  endlessly  in  the  tide  of  the  ages,  but  with- 
out purpose  or  result.  There  are  those  who  have  no 
better  explanation  of  the  universe  than  this.  They  are 
in  revolt  against  the  truth  of  the  moral  government  of 
God.  They  deny  what  the  wisest  ages  have  believed, 
and  c'eride  the  faith  which  made  the  greatest  peoples 
great.  And  it  is  as  though  a  child  mocked  the  sun  for 
shining,  or  lifted  a  finger  to  stay  the  passage  of  the 
hurricane,  or  bade  the  tide  rise  no  farther  on  the  shore; 
for  such  revolt  is  the  madness  of  an  empty  pride,  and 
is  as  futile  as  it  is  wicked.  '*We  can  do  nothing 
against  the  truth  :  but  for  the  truth." 

(ii)  The  second  great  truth  against  which  the  world  is 
in  revolt  is  the  spiritual  truth  of  GocPs  government  by 
Jesus  Christ.  Christ  stands  before  men  as  the  embodied 
holiness  of  God,  and  His  law  of  life  is  the  law  by 
which  human  holinef-rs  is  attained.     He  proclaims  His 


21$  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


law  of  unworldliness,  self-sacrifice,  and  self-abnegation, 
submission  to  God  and  service  to  man.  Against  that 
Divine  Presence  the  world  has  been  in  perpetual  revolt. 
The  past  sign  of  that  revolt  is  Calvary  ;  its  present 
sign  is  the  selfishness  and  un-Christliness  of  human 
life.  Just  as  the  one  seemed  triumphant  long  ago,  so 
the  other  seems  triumphant  now.  That  blood-stained 
Cross,  lifted  against  the  lurid  light  of  the  darkened 
heaven,  is  the  symbol  of  its  ancient  triumph,  and  the 
selfishness  of  human  life  is  its  symbol  to-day.  But 
long  since  the  Cross  has  been  answered  by  the  sepul- 
chre, and  on  the  steep  stairs  of  sacrifice  Christ  has 
ascended  into  universal  supremacy.  Do  you  remember 
what  happened  immediately  after  the  entombment  of 
Jesus  ?  The  Pharisees  had  hated  Him  living,  and 
they  feared  Him  dead.  And  so  they  come  to  Pilate, 
and  ask  him  to  give  them  a  watch  to  set  around  the 
tomb  where  the  Wonderful  lies  silent.  And  v/hat  is 
his  reply  ?  "  Ye  have  a  watch  " — set  it  ;  seil  the  tomb  ; 
''make  it  as  sure  as  ye  can."  How  sure  was  that  ?  Was 
it  prophecy  or  irony  which  animated  Pilate's  speech  ?  If 
the  nations  could  be  set  in  watch  around  that  tomb,  or 
the  vast  round  of  the  firmament  itself  be  the  seal  upon 
its  doorways,  how  shall  they  restrain  the  Lord  of  Life 
— the  Lord  before  whom  Death  had  evermore  receded, 
and  who  at  last  was  destined  to  confront  the  dread 
destro^^er,  and 


" — quell  him  with  a  breath, 
And  lead  him  where  He  will 
"With  a  whibper  in  the  ear"? 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     219 


The  revolt  against  Him  was  futile  then,  and  it  is  futile 
now.  The  Cross  has  become  the  meeting-place  of  the 
nations,  and  He,  being  'Mifted  up,"  is  drawing  all  men 
unto  Him.  There  are  those  who  resist  that  infinte 
attraction,  for  whom  the  law  of  Christ  is  a  law  of  folly, 
and  the  supremacy  of  Christ  a  phrase  for  laughter. 
They  live  only  to  get  and  gain,  not  to  help  and  serve ; 
they  rejoice  in  unrighteous  laws,  and  oppose  the  law  of 
sacrifice.  They  suck  the  poisoned  honey-flower  of  vice, 
and  drink  the  red  wine  of  voluptuous  pleasure,  and 
hasten  after  the  f.ital  fruit  of  Ma  nm  m,  an  j  "  crucify  the 
Son  of  God  afresh."  Theycrovn  Him  with  the  t\orn- 
crown  of  derisive  malice,  and  offer  Him  the  gall  and 
vinegar  of  agnostic  mockery.  Some  of  you  have  done  it. 
But  again  the  voice  of  Paul  speaks,  and  eighteen  cen- 
turies have  only  added  victorious  confirmation  to  his 
words  :  it  is  a  \ain  conflict,  a  futile  and  pitiful  rebellion, 
a  mutiny  born  in  folly  and  ending  in  despair.  Christ 
does  reign,  and  is  King  already,  and  all  power  is  given 
unto  Him.     *'We  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth." 

But  it  may  be  said.  After  all  this  is  mere  affirmation  : 
where  is  the  proof?  what  /*5  ti'uthl  By  what  signs 
can  we  discern  it  ?  One  proof  of  truth,  at  least,  is 
found  in  the  eternity  of  its  life  :  it  is  immortal.  I  do 
rot  say  that  error  docs  not  possess  life,  and  long  fife  ; 
but  error  carries  the  seeds  of  its  own  death  with 
it,  and  its  life  at  best  is  transient  and  intermittent. 
The  truth  is  known  by  the  indestructibility  of  its  life. 
It  is  error  that  changes  :  truth  abides. 

Ask,    for    instance,    what    has    been    the  history   of 


220  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD 

civilisation  ?  It  has  been  a  history  of  the  slow  but 
certain  conquests  of  truth.  There  have  been  periods 
when  the  world  has  seemed  to  have  fallen  asleep,  and 
the  centuries  have  passed  by  dark  and  silent  with 
noiseless  feet,  or  have  been  as  a  heavy  tide  whose  slow 
and  sluggish  waves,  with  their  mechanical  rise  and  fall, 
have  only  lulled  men  into  deeper  slumber.  No  great 
voice  has  spoken,  no  heroic  act  has  flashed  an  ennobling 
fire  through  the  evil  darkness,  no  Divine  purpose  has 
called  the  nations  to  its  victorious  crusade.  Years 
have  passed  ;  years  of  languor,  impotence,  and  sloth. 
Then  from  that  vast  slumbering  host  one  head  has 
lifted  itself,  and  one  man  has  seen  a  new  light  kindling 
in  the  far  firmament.  He  has  risen  and  announced  his 
great  discovery,  and  called  on  men  to  believe  in  it. 
Sometimes  he  has  been  a  prophet  with  a  new  spiritual 
message  for  his  age ;  sometimes  a  thinker,  with  a  new 
and  living  word  of  wisdom  ;  sometimes  a  student,  who 
has  kept  his  ear  close  to  the  beating  heart  of  nature,  and 
has  at  last  perceived  the  rhythmic  working  of  some 
great  natural  law,  which  for  him  has  altered  the  aspects 
of  the  universe ;  sometimes  a  statesman,  with  daring 
schemes  of  government,  which  promise  a  new  era 
of  hope  for  subjugated  peoples.  What  has  been  the 
history  of  such  men  and  their  discoveries  ?  They  have 
been  disbelieved,  ignored,  persecuted  ;  thrust  into  the 
dungeon  or  gibbeted  for  the  scorn  of  fcols.  Their 
^\ords  have  been  fiercely  debated;  flung  hither  and 
thither  as  firebrands  of  contention  and  division,  and 
the  conclusions  they  set  forth  have  been  attacked  by  the 


IMPO TENCE  OF  RE  VOL  T  A  GA  INST  THE  TR UTH.     22 1 

enmity  of  ignorance,  derided  by  the  flippancy  of  folly, 
asserted  with  the  enthusiasm  of  faith.  But  one  thing  has 
always  happened  :  time  has  tried  them.  The  error  has 
proved  itself  error  by  perishing;  the  truth  has  proved 
itself  truth  by  living  and  triumphing.  Astrology  has 
perished,  but  astronomy  survives  ;  alchemy  has  been  dis- 
missed as  a  cheating  fantasy,  but  chemistry  has  grown 
into  a  mighty  science.  The  scientific  heresies  of  one  age 
have  become  the  commonplaces  of  the  next.  Time,  hoary 
and  mighty,  has  stood  hke  a  gigantic  thresher,  and  on 
the  threshing-floor  of  the  centuries  has  threshed  out 
the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  annihilating  that  which  is 
false,  and  keeping  only  the  eternal  truths  of  things. 
Against  the  chaff  he  has  been  victorious,  but  he  has 
been  able  to  ''do  nothing  against  the  truth,  but  for  the 
truth." 

"Thus  it  is  that  through  the  ages  an  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns." 

The  untrue  thing  proves  its  untruth  by  perishing, 
but  the  truth  vindicates  itself  by  living.  Inch  by  inch 
the  darkness  has  been  driven  back,  and  wedge  after 
wedge  of  light  has  pierced  its  solid  bulk,  until  the  hour 
of  its  uttermost  disintegration  seems  at  hand.  And  so 
men  have  advanced  from  height  to  height  of  knowledge, 
and  the  dust  of  the  centuries  upon  their  feet  is  the 
crumbled  debris  of  error,  and  the  light  upon  their  path 
is  the  broadening  day  of  wisdom,  and  the  banner  which 
waves  before  their  innumerable  host  bears  this  great 
inscription  :  '*  We  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth  but 
for  the  truth ;  great  is  truth,  and  it  must  prevail." 


222  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

In  like  manner  we  say  that  one  proof  of  the  moral 
government  of  God  is  that  the  centuries  assert  it  ;  and 
of  the  spiritual  kingdom  of  Christ,  that  the  centuries 
have  been  unable  to  destroy  it.  No  righteous  govern- 
ment of  the  world  !  The  wo-ld  a  mere  drifting  chaos 
of  anarchy  and  tumult !  Not  thus  does  the  wise  man 
read  history.  Is  there  nothing  in  the  history  of  nations 
significant  of  retribution  ?  Think  how  many  great 
monarchies  have  arisen  and  covered  the  world  with 
empire,  and  where  are  they  now  ?  "  Where  are  the 
snows  of  yester-year  ?  "  Did  ever  empire  seem  more 
likely  to  endure  to  the  crack  of  doom  than  the  Roman  ? 
Was  there  ever  a  people  more  splendid  in  resource, 
more  victorious  in  achievement,  more  world-wide  in 
ambition  ?  But  they  are  gone  ;  how,  and  why  ?  They 
perished  of  excess  of  vice,  they  became  loathsome  with 
impurity,  and  then  the  invisible  vengeance  which  had 
long  tarried  fell  upon  them,  and  all  that  mighty  empire 
of  the  Coesars  fell  like  a  house  of  cards,  and  crumbled 
like  a  pillar  c{  dust  in  the  desert.  On  all  nations  which 
become  corrupt  the  sam.e  fate  falls  sooner  or  later, 
and  on  all  men. 

"The  mills  cf  God  grind  slowly,  but  they  grind  exceeding  small; 
Though   with    patience    He   stands    waiting,    with    exactness    He 
grinds  all." 

Have  we  not  before  our  eyes  to-day  the  spectacle  of  a 
great  nation  shrinking  into  narrower  and  yet  narrower 
bounds,  forfeiting  year  by  year  the  pre-eminence  of 
the  past,  worshipping  the  "goddess  of  Lubricity/' 
and  careless  of  the  God  of  Purity ;  and  what  does  the 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     223 


philosophic  historian  say  about  France  ?  "  France 
slit  her  own  veins  and  let  her  own  life-blood  out  on 
the  day  of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  has  been  perishing  of 
exhaustion  ever  since."  And  what  does  all  this  mean, 
but  that  there  is  an  avenging  Holiness  in  the  world 
mightier  than  man,  which  rules  the  nations  with  a  rod 
of  iron  ? 

Or  ask  how  is  it  that  the  spiritual  empire  of  Jesus 
Christ  has  survived  ?  The  world  has  been  leagued 
against  it  from  the  beginning.  Rome,  which  tolerated 
all  local  religions,  instinctively  realised  that  this  religion 
was  more  than  local,  and  for  three  centuries  did  her 
best  to  crush  it.  She  perceived  that  in  the  forlorn  and 
famished  missionaries  of  the  Cross  she  had  to  deal 
with  the  agents  and  heralds  of  spiritual  revolution. 
Against  them,  and  their  kingdom,  men  have  done  their 
worst.  The  key-note  of  revolt  and  hatred  struck  on 
Calvary  has  echoed  through  the  ages.  Kings  have 
summoned  their  armies  to  destroy  this  kingdom  ;  hell 
has  loosed  its  flaming  seas  tu  overwhelm  it.  The  world 
has  blcized  with  stakes  as  the  battle-field  with  watch- 
fires,  and  has  rung  with  cries  of  anguish  as  the  battle- 
field with  death-ciies.  Yet  the  kingdom  survives, 
and  the  fiery  waves  have  fallen  back  quenched  and 
impotent,  and  the  wrath  of  man  has  passed  like  a  waft 
of  smoke,  and  the  sun  has  shone  out  again  in  ever- 
brightening  glory.  The  Christ  survives.  The  wrath 
of  man  praises  Him,  and  only  serves  to  reveal  and 
enhance  His  majesty.  Scourged,  crucified,  dying, 
slain  and  sepulchred,  Christ  has  still  triumphed,  and 


224  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


is  the  moral  Emperor  of  the  universe  to-day.  What 
does  it  all  mean  ?  It  means  that  the  kingdom  of  God 
in  Christ  is  a  fact,  and  cannot  be  destroyed  :  it  is  true, 
and  men  "  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth."  Their 
fury  is  impotent.  "  Why  do  the  heathen  rage,  and 
the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing  ?  .  .  .  He  that  sitteth 
in  the  heavens  shall  laugh  :  the  Lord  shall  have  them 
in  derision."  Oh,  think  of  it  ! — the  derision  of  Omni- 
potence, the  dreadful  laughter  of  Him  who  inhabiteth 
eternity,  to  whom  this  great  world  itself  is  but  one 
dust-mote  floating  in  the  rays  of  His  terrible  and 
glorious  light !  Who  shall  stand  before  that  consuming 
fire  of  HoHness  and  Power  ?  Let  a  man  wrestle  with 
the  "  live  lightnings "  and  crush  them  in  his  grasp, 
let  him  chain  the  sun  down  that  he  shall  not  rise — 
then  shall  he  also  upset  the  chariots  of  God  with 
the  cords  of  pride  he  weaves  across  their  path,  and 
dethrone  the  Christ  by  the  words  of  fury  he  utters 
at  His  feet !  The  whole  rebellion  of  man  against 
God  is  one  wild  spasm  of  despair :  it  is  pathetic  in 
its  hopelessness,  pitiable  in  its  folly,  sad  in  its  very 
futility  ;  for  the  word  which  rings  through  the  ages 
is :  '*  We  can  do  nothing  against  the  truth,  but  for 
the  truth." 

Here,  then,  is  that  aspect  of  terror  with  which  Jesus 
Christ  confronts  the  world,  and  which  is  too  generally 
forgotten.  Meek  as  a  lamb,  gentle  as  a  mother ;  yes, 
but  His  is  ''the  glory  and  the  majesty  and  the  power;" 
He  is  "the  Wonderful,  the  Counsellor,  the  mighty 
God ;"  "  King  of  kings,  the  Lord  of  lords,"  the  Judge 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     225 


of  quick  and  dead.  Are  those  dread  ascriptions  the 
poetic  exaggerations  of  devout  souls,  or  are  they  truth  ? 
Do  we  modern  Christians  use  them  with  any  awe- 
struck sense  of  their  subhme  significance  ?  If  we  do, 
we  shall  not  appeal  only  by  the  pathos  of  Christ's  love, 
but  by  the  greatness  of  His  power.  ''  Knowing  the 
terror  of  the  Lord,  we  persuade  men."  He  is  not 
a  Presence  meekly  soliciting  the  suffrage  of  our  pity ; 
He  demands  the  loyalty  of  our  obedience.  We  have 
something  more  to  preach  than  Calvary,  something 
more  to  see  than  the  Man  of  Love,  who  for  love  of 
the  world  had  no  place  to  lay  His  head  ;  we  see  the 
grave  shattered  at  His  word,  and  the  heavens  opened 
before  the  majesty  of  His  voice.  Is  there  nothing 
terrible  in  all  that  ?  Dare  we  trifle  with  Him  before 
whose  face  heaven  and  earth  flee  away?  Dare  we 
treat  Him  with  indolent  disdain,  before  whom  we  must 
appear  to  answer  for  th-  deeds  done  in  the  body? 
Dare  we  fulfil  His  demands  with  languor,  or  run  upon 
His  errands  with  reluctance  ?  Is  there  no'hing  in  the 
thought  of  this  sovereignty  of  Christ  which  gives 
pause  to  our  foo'.ish  laughter,  and  fills  us  with  a 
solemn  fear?  And  some  of  you  come  to  sing  His 
praise,  and  then  go  out  to  shape  your  life  of  pride 
and  pleasure,  and  forget  that  His  doom  has  gone  out 
against  such  a  life  as  yours.  You  defy  Him  before 
whom  tie  keepers  of  the  tomb  were  as  dead  men, 
and  all  the  enmity  of  the  f  ges  but  the  fcam  upon  the 
wa\e,  which  e' bs  even  while  it  rages!  O  fools 
and  slow   of  heart,   know   ye  not  ye  can   do  nothing 

15 


226  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

against   Him   who   is   the   Way,    the  Truth,    and    the 
Life? 

You  can,  of  course,  deny  the  truth,  and  defy  it :  in 
the  ruined  greatness  of  man  made  in  God's  image  there 
is  still  power  enough  left  to  do  that.  So,  too,  you 
may  deny  the  law  of  gravitation,  but  if  you  defy  it, 
and  leap  from  yonder  steeple  to  illustrate  your  defiance, 
there  is  one  sure  result — the  law  triumphs  and  the 
man  is  slain.  You  can  deny  the  penalties  of  vice,  but 
if  you  defy  them  the  slow  poison  will  eat  the  heart 
out  notwithstanding,  and  in  premature  old  age,  and 
broken  health,  and  crippled  intellect,  they  will  vindicate 
themselves  and  be  avenged  on  you.  You  may  deny 
the  movement  of  the  earth,  but  the  earth  will  go  on 
moving,  and  the  stars  will  go  on  shining  in  their  calm 
and  perfect  strength,  as  though  you  had  never  spoken, 
and  such  an  one  as  you  had  never  been.  There  are 
certain  things  which  have  long  since  been  lifted  out 
of  the  realm  of  speculation  into  certitude.  It  is  no 
brilliant  coiijccture  which  calculates  the  hour  of  the 
eclipse,  or  the  track  of  the  tornado.  Why  is  it  no  one 
doubts  these  prophecies  of  scitnce  ?  It  is  because  we 
have  discovered  certain  laws  of  the  universe  which  are 
subject  to  no  caprice,  open  to  no  revisal.  They  are 
not  hindered  by  our  malice,  nor  disturbed  by  our  in- 
difference or  insolence.  And  so  in  the  spiritual  universe, 
when  we  see  the  same  cause  producing  the  same 
effect  through  the  long  course  of  various  centuries,  we 
know  we  have  found  a  truth  which  is  untouched  by 
human  transience,  and  unchangeable  by  human  opinion. 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     227 

When  we  see,  through  all  the  faded  past  of  human 
history,  Christ's  love  inspiring  love,  and  Christ's  light 
bestowing  light,  and  Christ's  life  imparting  life,  we 
know  that  we  are  dealing  with  an  unchangeable  Force, 
and  can  forecast  the  spiritual  future  of  the  world  with 
unerring  accuracy.  There  is  my  warrant  for  preach- 
ing :  the  unchangeableness  of  the  Christ  I  preach,  and 
the  absolute  certainty  that  His  power  over  men  is 
unchanged  too  :  "  Jesus  Christ,  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  for  ever."  With  Him  we  are  omnipotent, 
for  we  ''  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  that  strength- 
eneth  "  us  :  against  Him  we  are  impotent,  "  for  we  can 
do  nothing  against  the  truth." 

II.  And  now  take  the  second  clause:  "But  for  the 
Truthy — The  truth  even  prospers  on  our  opposition. 
It  has  always  been  so  in  the  day  of  persecution.  The 
liurricane  has  carried  the  seed  of  truth  afar;  the  fire 
has  purged  the  hearts  of  men ;  the  storm  has  de- 
stroyed the  old  building,  only  that  it  shall  be  replaced 
by  a  nobler  and  more  stable  structure.  It  is  the 
very  mockery  of  triumph  :  the  very  irony  of  victory  ! 
God  indeed  holds  His  enemies  in  derision,  when  their 
best-planned  revolt  crowns  His  arms  with  new  glory, 
and  the  very  ingenuity  of  their  hatred  helps  on  His 
sovereign  purpose. 

But  impotent  as  we  are  to  l  3>ail  the  truth,  we  are 
all  able  to  assirt  it.  Do  you  say,  how  can  that  be  ? 
Ho  V  is  it  possible  thU  the  creature  who  can  off  r 
only  futile  resistance  sl.ould  yet  be  capable  of  effectual 
aid  ?     Can  he  who   is    impotent    to    thwart  be  strong 


228  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


to  assist  ?  It  is  no  empty  paradox  to  reply  that 
he  can.  You  cannot  hinder  the  truths  of  astro- 
nomy ;  but  think  of  it, — those  high  miracles  of  starry 
wonder  shone  unrecognised  for  ages,  the  mere  street- 
lamps  of  the  city  of  night,  waiting  for  the  man  whose 
divine  curiosity  should  pierce  the  curtains  of  their 
chambers ;  and  how  much  did  that  man  do  for  the 
truths  of  astronomy  who  levelled  the  first  telescope 
against  the  blue  vastness  of  the  midnight  firmament  ? 
You  cannot  hinder  the  truths  of  medicine;  they  are 
one  and  indivisible ;  but  the  secret  waits  for  the  patient 
and  splendid  research  of  man  ;  and  how  much  does 
that  man  do  for  the  truths  of  medicine  who,  like 
Pasteur  or  Jenner,  finds  a  new  remedy  for  some 
hitherto  incurable  disease  ?  You  cannot  revoke  the 
laws  of  science,  they  are  the  same  to-day  as  when 
the  dawn  of  the  world  broke ;  but  they  lurk  in  silence, 
and  wait  the  approach  of  the  intellect  of  man,  and 
the  demand  of  his  noble  curiosity.  You  can  destroy 
none  of  these  forces ;  but  how  much  you  can  do  for 
them  !  It  is  even  so  with  the  kingdom  of  Jesus 
Christ.  You  cannot  destroy  it,  but  you  can  aid  it ; 
3^ou  cannot  overcome  it,  but  you  can  spread  it  :  the 
mightiest  cannot  hinder  its  certain  victory,  but  the 
meanest  can  hasten  it  by  his  devotion,  his  valour, 
and  his  love. 

Let  our  hearts  rejoice,  then :  Christ's  kingdom  can- 
not be  shaken.  Think  of  the  continuity  of  faith  which 
has  run  through  all  the  ages.  Think  of  a  Paul,  an 
Augustine,  a  TertuUian ;  think   of  Christian  painters 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     229 

like  Raphael  and  Angelica,  Christian  historians  like 
Neander,  Christian  scientists  like  Newton,  Christian 
musicians  like  Bach  and  Handel,  Christian  poets 
like  Milton  and  Wordsworth,  Christian  martyrs  in  a 
hundred  generations,  and  Christian  saints  in  every 
century,  and  then  ask :  Is  it  possible  that  all  these 
believed  in  vain  ?  Was  the  spring  of  all  this  heroism, 
the  well  of  all  this  faith,  the  source  of  all  this  inspira- 
tion, a  mere  idle  myth,  a  noble  phantasy  ?  We 
are  face  to  face  with  an  age  of  doubt  and  denial.  To- 
morrow the  shrewd  sceptic  will  propose  his  question 
to  you.  I  give  you  a  question  to  propose  to  him. 
Ask  him — put  it  on  no  higher  ground — simply,  Is  it 
probable  that  all  the  ages  have  been  wrong,  that  at 
last  Herbert  Spencer  alone  of  all  living  men  should 
be  right  ?  Is  it  probable — I  put  it  on  no  higher 
ground — that  t^is  great  galaxy  of  genius  and  goodness, 
this  innumerable  company  of  human  spirits  made 
perfect,  who  have  found  their  joy  and  life  in  Jesus, 
— is  it  probable  that  they  have  all  believed  in  vain, 
and  that  the  nineteenth  century  agnostic  alone  is 
right  ?  Well,  an  agnostic  is  one  who  does  not  know, 
and  the  man  who  does  not  know  we  usually  call  an 
ignoraniits.  For  my  part,  I  decline  to  follow  one 
v;ho  tells  me  he  does  not  know ;  and  I  prefer  to 
believe  that  vast  anthem  of  certitude  which  rolls  up- 
ward from  the  saintliest  and  noblest  hearts  of  all  the 
world's  great  past :  *^  I  know  whom  I  have  believed, 
and  am  persuaded  that  He  is  able  to  keep  that  which 
I  have  committed  unto  Him  against  that  day." 


230  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

I    call   you,    then,    to   loyal    submission    and    noble 
service.     Cease  from  a  revolt  which  is  impotent,  enter 
into  that  allegiance  with  God   from  which  shall  issue 
peace  and  victory.     Submission    to   God    is    the   first 
step    towards    peace,    and     then     comes    love,    which, 
turning  its  face  toward  God,  becomes  piety,  and  turn- 
ing its  face  toward  man  becomes  morality  and  service. 
Love    has    its    rules,    its    restrictions,     its    bondage ; 
but    it    is    a   golden    fetter,    and    the    lowdiest    service 
of  love    is    better   than  the  wildest   liberty  of  revolt. 
Christ's    "yoke    is    easy,"    His    *' burden    i?    light;" 
for  we    have    come    unto    Him    and    found    rest    unto 
our  souls.     Put  yourself  on  the  side  of  His  truth,  and 
then  you  will    be    clothed  with    an   irresistible    moral 
force,  which  wall   make  you  true  helpers  of  the  race, 
and  invincible  soldiers    of  the    right.     Then  you  will 
have   a   serene   and    unsubduable  faith  in  the  victory 
of  the  kingdom  of  Christ.     Remember  it  has  triumphed 
over  greater   odds    than    any  now  arrayed  against  it. 
Picture    to  yourselves,  if  you    can,  the  young  convert 
of   Paul's   day  as    he    enters    some    great    pagan  city. 
On  every  side  he  sees    the   pomp   of  martial    power, 
the  luxury  of  sensuous  life.     There  vast  temples  rise, 
and  altars  smoke  to  Jupiter ;  there  philosophers  dispute, 
and  yonder  go  bright  garlanded  processions,  with  the 
sound   of  flutes   and    dancing,  to  unhallowed  festival. 
Soldiers    march    with    steady  tramp,    and    everywhere 
the  silver  eagles   of  the   empire   gleam.     But  to  him, 
poor  youth,  fresh   from    fast    and    vigil,  lonely  prayer 
and  spiritual  ecstasy,  deep   and   humble  pondering  on 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH,    231 

the  lessons  of  the  Crucified,  all  this  seems  strange, 
skd,  hr.tLful: 

"He  locks  upon  the  city  every  side, 
Far  and  wide, 
All  the  mouptsins  topped  with  temples,  all  the  glaJ.es, 

Colonnades, 
All  the  cau£cys,  bridges,  aqueducts,  and  then, 
All  the  men  ;  " 

and  he  turns  away  saddened  and  disheartened.  Is  it 
possible  all  this  can  be  changed;  chaiiqcd  too  by  the 
gospel  of  One  called  a  felon?  And  then  he  turns 
aside  into  some  lowly  street,  and  amid  the  humb'est 
people  begins  to  preach  that  strange  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.  And  what  happens  ?  In  three  centuries  not 
a  heathen  temple  is  left  in  Rome ;  the  Cross  hns 
everywhere  triumphed  over  the  ea.cle  as  love  must 
always  conquer  strength.  The  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus 
was  but  as  a  little  leaven,  but  it  was  sufficient  to 
leaven  the  whole  lump  of  that  corrupt  pagan  world. 

"And  centuries  came,  and  ran  their  course, 
An  J  unspent  all  the  time 
Still,  still  went  forth  that  Cliild's  dear  force, 
And  still  was  at  its  prime." 

I  call  you  to  new  and  nobler  enthus'asm  for  this 
kingdom.  Enthusiasm  is  the  true  fire  of  manhood, 
the  pulse  of  action,  the  soul  of  heroism  ;  and  when 
that  leaves  a  man,  a  church,  a  nation,  its  true  glory 
is  departed.  Empires  are  not  won  without  self- 
forgettir.g  valour  and  devotion.  "  Paradise  lies  under 
the  shadow  of  the  swoids,"  cried  the  mighty  Oman 
when  he  uiged  his  armies  to  the  dcath-giip;  and  we 


232  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


want  something  of  that  magnificent  frenzy  which 
counts  Ufe  worth  having  only  for  the  accomplishment 
of  great  deeds.  We  are  the  children  of  a  King ;  let 
the  royal  note  of  confidence  fill  our  preaching,  our 
praises,  our  life.  We  want  the  enthusiasm  of  that 
young  minister  who  refused  a  hard  and  poor  station, 
but  that  same  night  heard  Bishop  Simpson  preachy  and 
as  he  heard  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  cried  :  "  Bishop, 
I  will  go  anywhere  for  Christ  now !  "  We  want  the 
enthusiasm  which  shames  men  of  their  niggard  gifts, 
and  counts  no  box  of  frankincense  too  precious  for 
that  Head  which  bowed  in  death  for  us.  To  be 
half-hearted  in  worldly  things  is  folly,  but  to  be 
irresolute  in  heavenly  things  is  treachery  and  infamy. 
Oh,  if  that  sacred  tide  of  love  of  truth,  and  over- 
mastering love  for  Him  who  is  the  Truth,  now  rises  in 
the  heart,  sweeping  away  all  barriers  of  selfish  prudence 
like  films  of  shattered  gossamer,  do  not  restrain  it, 
do  not  be  ashamed  of  it ;  thank  God  for  it !  There 
is  little  enough  of  enthusiasm  for  the  truth  of  Jesus 
in  an  England  which  saves  annually  two  hundred  and 
thirty  millions  of  money,  and  gives  a  million  and  a 
half  for  missions;  which  spends  one  hundred  and 
thirty  millions  in  drink,  and  squanders  thousands 
daily  on  the  trifles  of  an  unregarded  luxury.  And 
if  this  kingdom  of  Christ's  truth  is  to  change  the 
vvcrld,  to  whom  can  I  appeal  more  reasonably  than 
the  young  men  who  for  good  or  evil  must  shape 
the  future?  We  shall  not  think  we  have  done  too 
much,    or   given    too    much,    when    Christ's    trumpet 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH.     233 

peals.  All  the  holy  recklessness  of  generous  deeds 
will  be  well  rewarded  then.  The  night  is  far  spent, 
the  day  is  at  hand  ;  already  the  heavens  signal  His 
approach,  and  His  chariot- wheels  are  heard  afar. 

"O  that  each  in  the  day  of  His  coming  may  say, 
I  have  fought  my  way  through, 

I  have  finiirhed  the  work  Thou  didst  give  me  to  do! 
O  that  each  from  his  Lord  may  receive  the  glad  word 
Well  and  faithfully  done ; 
Enter  into  My  joy,  and  sit  down  on  My  throne!" 

Fix  this  then  in  your  minds ;  yoii  can  help  the  truth. 
The  humblest  life  may  be  inspired  and  animated  by 
spiritual  honesty,  by  resolute  sincerity,  by  dutiful 
allegiance  to  that  which  it  recognises  to  be  be?t  and 
highest.  The  service  of  the  truth  is  a  bond  whose 
catholicity  includes  all  earnest  souls  through  all  the 
ages,  and  it  utterl}^  ignores  all  differences  of  social 
state  or  intellectual  culture.  The  truth  is  served  by 
the  meckiicss  of  the  saint  and  the  boldness  of  the  true 
reformer  ;  by  the  audacities  of  genius  and  the  [atknce 
of  mediocrity  ;  by  the  resignation  of  suffering  and  the 
valours  of  action  ;  by  the  master  spirits  of  humanity, 
whose  voices  rouse  the  world  with  trumpet-music ;  and 
the  insignificant  toilers,  whose  names  are  never  known 
beyond  the  humble  limits  of  the  street  wherein  they 
have  lived,  and  the  church  in  which  they  pra3'ed. 
One  of  the  things  most  difficult  for  us  to  learn,  and 
therefore  most  slowly  learned,  is  that  mere  narrov/ness 
of  circumstance  can  set  no  bound  to  our  power  of  doing 
good,  and  that  men  of  humble  powers  can  serve  the 


234  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

world  not  less  efficiently  than  men  of  magnificent 
endowments.  To  the  man  of  one  talent  the  rate  of 
usury  is  just  the  same  as  to  the  man  of  five ;  and  he 
can  make  his  life  as  noble  as  the  lives  of  those  who 
began  with  the  larger  capital  of  opportunity.  A  new 
Augustine  may  not  read  this  page,  but  an  undiscovered 
John  Howard  may;  and  who  shall  say  which  has 
served  the  world  the  better,  the  genius  of  Augustine  or 
the  sympathy  of  Howard  ?  Do  not  plead  then  the  dis- 
qualification of  narrow  powers  or  opportunities :  you 
must  serve  the  truth  where  you  are,  or  nowhere ;  with 
the  powers  you  have  or  not  at  all. 

If  you  have  ever  gazed  upon  the  Matterhorn,  that 
lone  and  dreadful  peak,  thrust  up  like  a  huge  black 
wedge  into  the  everlasting  blue,  so  steep  the  snow  can 
scarce  do  more  than  powder  it,  so  terrific  in  its  grandeur, 
all  other  mountains  seem  huddled  at  its  feet  in  terror, 
you  will  have  thought  that  if  ever  there  was  a  type  of 
majestic  strength  it  is  the  Matterhorn,  standing  there 
immutable  since  the  beginning,  and  you  will  have 
pictured  its  mighty  spire  catching  the  first  splendour  of 
that  first  dawn  when  God  said  :  "  Let  there  be  light ! " 
But  ask  science  to  tell  you  how  the  Matterhorn  was 
made,  and  it  will  tell  you  how,  ages  upon  ages  since, 
there  were  drifting  mica-flakes  floating  in  an  abysmal 
sea,  and  one  by  one  they  came  together,  and  were 
beaten  into  hardness  and  consistence,  and  grew  in  bulk 
and  steadfastness,  until  at  last  the  watCx-s  rolled  back, 
and  there  was  uncovered  that  vast  Alpine  tower  against 
whose  "  imperishable   spire "    ''  the  wild  north  winds 


IMPOTENCE  OF  REVOLT  AGAINST  THE  TRUTH,    235 


should  rage  in  vain,  and  the  great  war  of  the  firmament 
should  burst,  yet  stir  it  not."  *  And  even  so  Christ's 
kingdom  is  built  up.  Little  by  Httle,  life  by  life,  the 
kingdom  grows.  Out  of  weakness  God  brings  strength, 
and  humble  things  confound  the  mighty,  and  at  last 
become  the  mightiest  of  all.  It  is  built  up  inch  by 
inch,  until  at  last  it  rises  mighty,  impregnable,  "  and 
the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it." 

Shall  our  lives  be  added,  as  living  stones,  to  this 
growing  grandeur  ?  Shall  they  be  fretted  out  in  blind 
rebellion  against  this  Rock  on  which  men  are  broken, 
and  which  when  it  falls  crushes  men  to  powder  ?  For, 
or  against  ?  But  before  we  answer,  the  decree  is  fixed 
and  is  irrevocable  :  we  may  know  the  Truth,  and  the 
Truth  will  make  us  free  ;  but  we  can  do  nothing  against 
the  Truths  but  for  the  Truth. 


♦Ruskin's  "Modern  Painters 


XIII. 

THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD, 

"Philip  saith  unto  Him,  Lord,  shew  us  the  Father,  and  it 
sufficeth  us.  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with 
you,  and  yet  hast  thou  not  known  Me,  Philip  ?  he  that  hath  seen 
Me  hath  seen  the  Father;  and  how  sayest  thou  then,  Shew  us 
the  Father  ?  " — John  xiv.  8,  9. 

OUR  subject  of  thought  is  Christ's  conception  of 
God  ;  and  to  arrive  at  what  we  mean  by  that, 
I  ask  you  to  consider  this  question  which  PhiHp  put 
to  Christ,  and  Christ's  reply.  And  as  we  turn  it  over 
the  first  thing  we  feel  about  it  is,  that  it  is  extremely 
difficult  to  determine  the  spirit  and  temper  in  which 
it  was  uttered.  It  is  at  once  acute  and  foolish  :  it  may 
be  the  extravagant  demand  of  an  unbounded  but  mis- 
guided faith,  or  the  vain  demand  of  mischievous  igno- 
rance. Perhaps  we  should  not  be  far  wrong  if  we  assume 
that  it  was  one  of  those  foolish  and  blundering  questions 
which  the  disciples  often  put  to  Christ,  through  their 
entire  misconception  of  His  person  and  His  teaching. 
John,  when  he  wanted  Christ  to  call  down  fire  upon  his 
enemies ;  Peter,  when  he  lectured  Christ  on  the  folly  of 
the  speech  in  which  He  anticipated  crucifixion,  both 
manifest  precisely  the  same  spirit  as  Philip  dees  in 
reference  to  this  question.     They  did  not  comprehend 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  237 

the  majesty  of  Christ.  They  wanted  to  apply  the  test 
of  a  blind  and  brutal  criticism  to  His  most  transcendent 
utterances  of  faith,  of  insight,  and  of  imagination.  Peter 
patronises  Him;  John  is  disappointed  in  Him;  Philip 
controverts  Him.  They  are  perpetually  reducing  His 
poetry  to  prose,  and  punctuating  His  speech  with  the 
narrow  ideas  of  a  provincial  intelligence.  To  His  Divine 
height  of  thought  they  cannot  rise,  and  therefore  they 
try  to  drag  Jesus  down  to  their  own  miserable  level. 
The  picture  is  very  human,  and  we  can  understand  it, 
because  it  is  just  what  men  are  doing  still  with  the 
words  and  the  teaching  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  fail  to 
see  their  infinite  suggestion,  their  illuminating  meta- 
phor; they  invent  a  theory  of  theology  which  was 
never  Christ's,  and,  by  the  wresting  of  solitary  and 
isolated  verses,  try  to  make  us  believe  that  Christ  taught 
what  He  could  never  even  have  conceived.  When  the 
words  of  Jesus  suit  their  tastes,  they  recommend  them 
to  us  with  a  patron's  commendation ;  and  when  they  do 
not,  they  either  ignore  them,  or  say  that  Christ  was  no 
doubt  misreported  in  this  or  in  that  respect;  and  so 
Peter  and  John  and  Philip  still  give  to  us  their  muti- 
lated and  imperfect  Christianity,  and  the  Christianity  of 
Christ  is  recklessly  forgotten,  or  wickedly  obscured. 

Now,  for  me  at  least,  this  much  is  clear,  that  I  must 
take  Jesus  Christ  for  all  in  all,  or  not  at  all.  It  is 
nothing  less  than  intellectual  dishonesty  to  play  fast 
and  loose  with  the  words  of  Christ,  choosing  what  suits 
me,  and  rejecting  as  unauthentic  what  I  do  not  care  to 
hear  or  believe.     Supposing  I  took  up  some  book  of 


238  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


astronomical  science,  and  calmly  marked  out  all  the 
passages  which  I  did  not  approve,  not  because  1  had 
any  wider  astronomical  knowledge  than  the  writer  of 
the  book,  but  simply  because  his  conclusions  upset 
my  preconceived  conceptions  of  astronomy.  Or  sup- 
pose I  re-edited  Plato,  or  Xenophon,  on  the  principle 
of  eliminating  all  passages  that  I  personally  disliked, 
on  the  ground  that  no  doubt  they  were  unauthentic, 
mere  interpolations  of  some  other  and  later  mind. 
What  an  outcry  there  would  be !  How  the  Press 
would  jeer  at  my  supreme  ignorance  and  egotism  I 
Why,  they  would  say,  on  that  principle  no  book  is 
safe.  Milton  may  be  re-edited  on  the  plea  that  so 
great  a  poet  could  not  possibly  have  written  such 
poor  theology  ;  and  Bunyan,  because  no  great  English 
writer  ought  to  teach  such  a  material  theory  of 
heaven  as  he  teaches.  But  if  I  said  Milton's  daughter 
misrepresented  Milton  when  she  took  down  the  mighty 
lines  from  the  lips  of  the  blind  old  scholar,  or  that 
Bunyan's  fellow-Baptists  had  no  doubt  written  por- 
tions of  his  works,  especially  the  portions  that  I  dis- 
like, and  therefore  I  eliminate  such  portions  from  his 
works — if  I  did  so,  you  would  call  me  a  blundering 
egotist.  You  would  be  eloquent  about  the  intellectual 
dishonesty  of  a  process  which  re-edited  great  authors 
on  the  principle  of  leaving  out  what  we  disliked,  and 
retaining  only  that  which  we  approved.  Yet  that  is 
the  new  criticism  which  men  to-day  apply  to  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  I  say  that  it  is  unfair,  it 
is  dishonest,  and  it  is  intellectually  contemptible.     We 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  239 

must  take  Jesus  Christ  for  all  in  all,  or  reject  Him. 
But  if  we  accept  Him,  we  must  accept  the  difficulties  of 
the  position,  and  be  content  to  accept  them.  When 
Jesus  Christ  utters  hard  truths  we  must  neither  rebuke, 
nor  correct,  nor  controvert  them ;  our  duty  is  simply  to 
take  up  the  intellectual  cross  and  follow  Him. 

Whatever  may  be  said  about  the  spirit  of  Philip's 
question,  it  is  obvious,  however,  that  it  touches  one  of 
the  deepest  needs  in  human  nature.  Man  desires  to 
worship,  if  he  can  find  an  object  worthy  of  his  worship, 
and  he  cannot  worship  that  which  is  unknown  and 
unconditioned.  If  there  be  any  power  in  the  universe 
other  than  ourselves,  we  want  to  know  that  power, 
and  we  must  know  it.  Professor  Huxley  has  recently 
told  us  in  77?^  Nineteenth  Century  that  he  invented  the 
familiar  and  popular  term,  ^'Agnostic,"  and  he  in- 
vented it  because  very  early  in  life  he  found  he  could 
know  nothing  about  that  Divine  Power  which  was 
said  to  govern  tl:e  universe.  And  while  he  admits 
that  religion  has  dene  much  to  elevate  human  conduct, 
he  thinks  that  human  conduct  may  now  be  safely 
trusted  to  go  on  by  itself  in  moral  evolution  without 
any  furtlier  interference  of  the  idea  of  God  at  all.  Do 
you  think  it  can  ?  I  do  not.  The  ship  does  not  go  on 
when  the  fires  are  put  out  in  the  engine-room,  and 
human  conduct  will  not  go  on  when  the  noble  impulse 
of  divine  and  personal  relationship  to  God  is  quenched. 
When  the  fires  in  the  engine-room  are  put  out,  the  ship 
swings  hither  and  thither  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  and 
it  is  drifted  b^^  the  tide,  or  it  founders  in  the  tempest ; 


240  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

and  human  conduct  founders  when  the  soul  of  man  is 
bereft  of  God.  I  grant  that  there  are  men — who  owe, 
however,  much  more  to  the  influence  of  Christianity 
than  they  are  conscious  of  or  admit — I  grant  that  there 
are  men  who  still  retain  irreproachable  character  amid 
the  decay  of  faith.  But  try  your  experiment  on  any 
large  and  general  scale,  and  you  will  find  that  the  loss 
of  God  means  ruin  to  character  and  conduct.  Occa- 
sionally the  doomed  ship  can  set  a  sail  when  the  engines 
are  silent,  and  may  find  some  port  and  escape  ship- 
wreck ;  but  taking  it  as  a  rule,  we  know  that  the  ship 
in  which  the  engine  fires  are  put  out  has  no  chance  of 
any  sail  being  spread  or  port  being  gained,  and  is  pretty 
sure  to  founder  in  the  darkness  of  the  night.  No ;  the 
knowledge  of  God  is  the  foundation  of  all  noble  human 
life,  and  to  know  God  is  the  insatiable  thirst  of  the 
human  heart.  We  want  to  know  what  God  is;  we 
want  to  know  what  God  demands  ;  we  want  to  know 
what  God  is  to  us,  and  what  we  are  to  Him ;  and 
therefore  it  is  one  of  the  deepest  cries  of  the  soul 
of  man  which  pierces  through  the  strange  speech  of 
Philip  when  he  says,  **  Show  us  the  Father,  and  it 
sufificeth  us." 

Such,  then,  is  Philip's  question  to  Jesus  Christ. 
Now  let  us  look  at  Christ's  answer  to  that  question, 
and  let  us  note  :  The  completeness  iviih  which  Jesus 
Christ  reveals  to  Philip  this  idea  of  the  Fatherhood  oj 
God.  Now,  when  we  speak  of  Christ  as  revealing  the 
Fatherhood,  what  is  it  that  v.^e  mean  ?  AVe  have  before 
us   to-day  a   Bible — not  one    book   but   m.any  books, 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD,  24I 

ranging  over  vast  periods  of  time,  summing  up  the 
history  of  vast  numbers  of  the  human  race,  and  in  this 
series  of  books  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  but  a  part, 
and  it  is  a  small  part.  In  all  the  books  known  as  the 
Old  Testament  there  is  comparatively  little  trace  of  this 
idea  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  God  is  strength,  God 
is  power,  God  is  wisdom  and  purity,  but  not  Fatherhood. 
His  purity  is  the  flame  before  which  even  the  angels 
shrink  dismayed,it  is  the  essential  light  which  no  man 
can  look  upon  and  live.  His  wisdom  is  manifested  in 
the  governing  of  human  destiny,  His  power  in  the  up- 
rearing  of  the  starry  pavilion  of  the  firmament,  His 
strength  in  the  mountains,  which  are  His  handiwork, 
and  the  sea,  which  is  held  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand. 
A  thousand  images,  sublime,  terrible,  majestic,  bring 
home  to  us  the  conception  of  the  supreme  purity, 
wisdom,  and  majesty  of  God  :  it  is  a  glorious 
conception,  before  which  we  quail  with  terror  and 
bow  in  abject  humiliation.  One  idea  only  there  is 
running  through  the  Old  Testament  which  recalls  us 
to  a  spirit  of  solemn  content,  that  is,  that  God  is  at  least 
manifested  in  the  particular  care  He  has  for  individuals 
of  the  human  race.  He  talks  with  Enoch ;  He  comforts 
Jacob ;  He  counsels  Moses,  but  it  can  hardly  be  said 
that  love  enters  into  these  various  relationships.  He 
is  Jah,  Jehovah,  terrible  in  strength;  He  is  easily 
offended,  hard  to  be  conciliated  ;  not  a  man  that  he 
should  lie,  nor  the  son  of  man  that  He  should  repent ; 
a  Being  to  be  served  with  awe,  with  trembling,  with 
contrition,  but  not  with  free  and  filial   affection.     To 

16 


242  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

the  mind  of  Moses  I  suppose  that  the  idea  of  affection 
towards  God  would  have  seemed  almost  blasphemy^ 
something  little  short  of  sacrilege  and  profanity. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  tender  moods  and  moments  in  the 
Old  Testament  when  the  heart  gushes  out  in  lovely 
longings  after  God,  and  uses  sweet  and  tender  words 
of  yearning.  But  take  the  Old  Testament  through  and 
through,  and  the  general  impression  given  us  of  God 
is  of  purity,  not  pity;  of  majesty,  not  compassion;  of 
supreme,  ineffable  righteousness,  and  power,  and  wisdom 
— the  God  of  the  roaring  sea,  and  the  live  lightning, 
and  the  tremendous  thunder,  not  the  Parent  of  little 
children  who  can  claim  His  love  and  render  in  return 
their  filial  service.  The  Old  Testament  pictures  God 
as  a  King,  not  God  as  a  Parent. 

And  let  me  say  that  this  idea  of  God  still  dominates 
theology  and  fills  the  thoughts  of  men.  And  1  think 
it  will  not  be  difficult  for  us  to  understand  why  it  is  so. 
Before  the  Reformation,  amid  all  the  pollutions  of 
Catholicism,  there  was  one  thing  true  and  noble  which 
it  preserved,  that  was  the  idea  of  tenderness  in  God. 
When  it  paid  homage  to  the  Virgin  Mother,  when  its 
poets  sang  lauds  and  chants  in  honour  of  the  Nativity, 
when  its  painters  painted  with  perpetual  zeal  the  holy 
Mother  bearing  in  her  arms  the  infant  Christ;  when 
its  priests  placed  upon  the  throne  of  heaven  the 
Mother  and  weaved  in  her  hair  the  seven  stars  of 
government,  and  placed  in  her  hand  the  golden  rods  of 
empire,  they  at  least  did  this — they  preserved  the  idea 
of  Divine  pity,  and  tenderness,  and  compassion.     That 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  243 

is  the  great  lesson  that  comes  to  us  to-day  from  the 
glorious  pictures  of  Raphael  and  Murillo,  and  which 
gives  to  them  their  ineffable  grace  and  pathos.  But 
when  the  Reformation  came,  in  its  righteous  indigna- 
tion against  the  pollutions  of  Rome,  it  swept  away  this 
idea  of  Divine  tenderness  ;  and  the  old  Hebrew  idea 
of  God,  as  infinite  strength  and  majesty,  was  rehabili- 
tated. The  Parent  disappeared,  the  King  again  became 
visible.  Calvinism  built  up  its  iron  logic,  and  struck 
the  fear  of  God  into  the  hearts  of  men.  The  fiercest 
Psalms  of  David  became  the  popular  lyrics  of  the  day, 
and  it  was  the  God  of  battles  who  was  again  invoked 
and  worshipped.  The  God  Cromwell  worshipped  was 
the  God  of  the  Hebrews  who  was  clothed  with  thunder ; 
the  God  Milton  believed  in  was  the  Great  Taskmaster 
in  whose  eye  he  sought  to  live.  The  age  demanded  a 
stern  ideal  of  God  to  inspire  the  valour  of  the  battle- 
field, and  the  strenuous  agonies  of  renunciation  unto 
death,  and  it  found  it  in  the  ancient  Scriptures  of  the 
Hebrews.  And  that  is  the  idea  of  God  which  still 
prevails  in  every  land  where  the  Reformation  was 
triumphant — God  is  still  worshipped  with  fear  and 
served  with  trembling.  It  is  from  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
preachers  take  their  texts,  and  it  is  the  Hebrew  idea 
of  God  which  is  set  before  the  people.  And  what  is 
the  result  ?  At  its  highest,  life  is  elevated  by  a  stern 
ideal  of  duty ;  at  its  lowest,  fife  is  crushed  into  a  slavish 
and  joyless  round  of  formality.  But  the  ideal  Christ 
1  as  given  us  in  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  or  that 
of  Paul  when  he  says,   '^We  have  not  received  the 


244  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 

spirit  of  fear,  but  the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby  we 
cry,  Abba,  Father " — this  is  forgotten ;  and  so  the  joy 
is  taken  out  of  piety  and  the  sunshine  out  of  life,  and 
instead  of  being  Christians  we  are  really  Jews,  per- 
meated with  Jewish  ideas  of  God,  and  forgetting,  if 
not  repudiating,  the  very  different  ideal  of  God  which 
is  set  before  us  by  Him  we  call  Master. 

Do  you  say,  then,  What  are  we  to  do  with  the 
Hebrew  Scriptures  ?  Are  they  not  inspired  ?  Yes  ; 
they  are  inspired,  in  that  they  give  us  the  history  of 
inspiration  ;  they  are  the  gradual  unfolding  of  the  idea 
of  God  as  man  was  able  to  bear  it.  It  is  no  irreverence 
for  me  to  say  that  the  God  of  Jacob  is  not  my  God, 
because  I  am  not  Jacob,  and  Christ  has  taught  me 
infinitely  higher  views  of  God  than  ever  Jacob  had. 
Jacob's  God  was  a  Being  with  whom  he  made  bargains, 
and  Jacob's  prayers  are  bargains  made  with  God.  My 
God  is  the  Father  with  whom  I  talk  in  friendly  and 
loving  intercourse.  It  is  no  irreverence  for  me  to  say 
that  David's  God  is  not  my  God :  David's  God  was  a 
mighty  King  who  blessed  him  but  cursed  his  enemies, 
nnd  who  would  continue  to  do  both  one  and  the  other 
as  long  as  His  law  was  obeyed.  David's  God  is  not 
my  God,  because  Christ  has  taught  me  that  the  Father 
makes  His  sun  to  shine  upon  the  good  and  the  evil,  and 
His  rain  to  fall  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust,  and  that 
He  is  no  respecter  of  persons.  Do  not  shrink  from 
admitting  these  statements  :  they  are  the  statements  of 
Jesus  Christ  Himself.  Christ  took  up  the  law  of  Moses 
and  rent  it  into  shreds  when  He  calmly  said,  "  They 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  245 

of  old  time  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye  and  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth  ;  I  SAY,  Bless  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
those  that  curse  you "  ;  and  One  is  our  Master,  even 
Christ.  His  ideal  of  God  we  accept,  and  not  the  ideal 
of  any  Hebrew  patriarch  or  lawgiver,  however  eminent. 
That,  at  least,  is  Christ's  claim.  He  does  not  destroy  : 
He  does  something  far  nobler — He  fulfils.  He  gathers 
up  all  that  is  true  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  interprets 
it  and  confirms  it.  Against  all  the  voices  of  the  past 
He  opposes  His  majestic  '*  I  say,"  and  closes  all  con- 
troversy. If  I  want  to  know,  then,  what  God  is, 
I  must  not  ask  Moses,  but  Jesus ;  for  Moses  has 
resigned  all  authority  unto  Him  to  whom  every  knee 
shall  bow,  and  of  whom  every  tongue  shall  confess 
that  He  is  God,  to  the  glory  of  the  Father.  The  revela- 
tion of  God  proceeds  along  one  continually  broadening 
line,  from  the  imperfect  to  perfection,  from  the  crude 
and  the  incom.plete  to  the  final  and  complete,  till  at  last 
we  hear  the  universal  litany  from  the  million-peopled 
earth  rising  upward  in  one  continuous  cry  of  trust  and 
exaltation,  "  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven."  That  is 
the  revelation  Christ  gives  us  of  God,  and  it  is  some- 
thing more  than  a  coincidence, — it  is  the  seal  of  the 
perfect  authority  and  knowledge  of  Jesus,  that  His 
first  recorded  word  in  this  world  was,  "  I  must  be 
about  My  Father's  business,"  and  His  last  recorded 
word  was  "  Father,"  when  He  bowed  His  head  in  the 
agony  of  Calvary  and  said,  **  Father,  into  Thy  hands 
I  commend  My  spirit." 

What  is  there  then  that  is  new  in  this  revelation  that 


246  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 


Christ  makes  to  us  of  God  ?  Briefly  put,  it  is  this — 
that  He  perceived  that  the  ruhng  power  of  the  universe 
is  not  force,  but  love.  And  what  is  love  ?  We  all 
know  what  it  is  better  than  we  can  define  it.  We 
have  had  parents,  and  we  know  how  our  father 
and  our  mother  interpreted  love  to  us ;  we  have 
children,  and  we  know  how  we  think  of  them,  and 
what  we  do  for  them.  Let  our  mothers  lift  up  their 
work-worn  hands  and  tell  us  how  many  stitches  they 
have  put  in  little  garments  when  the  house  was  quiet 
at  night,  and  how  many  distasteful  tasks  they  have 
done  for  little  feet,  never  finding  them  distasteful, 
because  of  the  power  of  love  which  animated  and 
inspired  them.  Let  our  fathers  stand  up  and  tell  us 
how  they  have  pinched  themselves  to  purchase  plea- 
sure or  education  for  their  children,  and  how  Hght 
they  have  thought  the  sacrifice  when  they  have  seen 
them  growing  up  into  vigorous  and  honoured  life. 
Let  those  who  have  children  who  have  wronged  them 
— the  father  of  the  prodigal  and  the  mother  of  the 
outcast — stand  up  and  say  whether  the  latch  of  the 
heart  is  not  always  lifted  for  the  wanderer's  return,  and 
what  they  would  give  if  only  they  could  fold  their 
lost  child  to  their  hearts  again.  Let  us  know  why  it 
is  you  keep  that  tress  of  faded  hair  in  the  secret 
drawer,  and  why  it  is  that  distant  grave  is  so  perpetu- 
ally in  your  memory.  Let  the  poets  tell  us  of  the 
passion  of  love  which  many  waters  cannot  quench,  and 
fill  our  ears  with  their  unearthly  waiHng  of  distress  for 
vanished  love,  and  their  rapturous  rejoicing  in  love  that 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  247 

finds  its  consummation  in  united  lives.  Whatever 
other  forces  there  are  that  shape  our  Uves  in  this 
world,  love  is  everywhere  the  master-spring,  and  the 
deepest  impulse  of  life. 

"All  thoughts,  all  feelings,  all  delights, 
Whatever  stirs  this  mortal  frame, 
Are  but  the  ministers  of  love, 
And  feed  his  sacred  flame." 

Is  that  true  of  man  ?  Christ  says  it  is  infinitely 
truer  of  God.  It  is  not  that  God  is  not  just,  for  love 
can  be  just ;  it  is  not  that  God  is  not  strong,  for  love 
can  be  strong ;  it  is  not  that  God  is  not  pure,  for 
love  is  purity;  it  is  not  that  God  is  not  wisdom,  for 
love  is  wisdom ;  but  it  is  that  every  attribute  of  God 
feeds  the  attribute  of  love,  and  love  is  the  sacred 
flame  which  burns  in  the  heart  of  the  universe  and 
illumines  all  the  worlds.  God  is  love,  and,  because 
God  is  love,  God  is  light,  and  in  Him  there  is  no 
darkness  at  all.  Every  act  of  earthly  love  is  but  a 
gleam  of  light  fallen  from  His  nature,  and  is  a  hint 
of  His  unutterable  love.  What  my  mother  was  to  me, 
God  is  to  me,  but  with  a  wiser  and  tenderer  affection 
than  ever  any  earthly  mother  knew,  or  could  know. 
Take  parentage  at  its  very  noblest  among  men ;  that 
is  the  type  of  God's  parentage  to  us,  and  that  is  the 
truth  that  Christ  came  to  reveal.  That  is  the  idea  of 
God  which  He  perpetually  enforced ;  and  how  divinely 
new  and  original  it  was  you  may  judge  by  comparing 
His  words  with  the  words  of  Moses;  and  you  may 
judge  also  by  the  fact  that,  though  1,900  years  have 


24S  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 


nearly  passed  away,  the  world  is  still  startled  by  this 
thought  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God,  and  still  hesitates 
to  accept  it. 

And  the  corresponding  truth  is  that  Fatherhood  in 
God  means  childhood  in  man,  and  carries  with  it 
brotherhood  among  men.  It  is  upon  the  basis  of  the 
Fatherhood  of  God  that  Christ  founds  all  His  doctrine, 
and  if  you  take  that  away  it  will  all  collapse.  When 
He  tells  me  to  become  a  little  child,  and  to  be  born 
again,  the  truth  that  lies  behind  His  words  is  that  God 
is  my  Father,  and  loves  me ;  when  He  tells  me  to  love 
my  neighbour  as  myself,  He  puts  a  new  interpretation 
upon  the  word  "neighbour;"  and  it  is  only  the  com- 
mon Fatherhood  of  God  that  can  interpret  it  and  justify 
it.  If  God  be  my  Father,  I  have  claims  upon  Him  for 
protection  and  sympathy  and  pity,  and  He  has  claims 
upon  me  for  love  and  obedience  and  service.  God 
meets  my  claim  when  He  tells  me  that  the  hairs  of  m}^ 
head  are  numbered.  He  bids  me  meet  His  claim  by 
"  loving  the  Lord  my  God  with  all  my  heart  and  mind, 
and  soul  and  strength."  Force  disappears  and  love 
reigns.  Force  is  there  still,  just  as  force  is  the  pre- 
rogative of  the  father,  in  the  vigour  of  whose  arm  there 
is  ten  thousandfold  greater  strength  than  there  is  in 
the  child's  arm  ;  but  love  commands  the  force  that  is  in 
the  father,  so  that  the  arm  that  could  crush  defends,  and 
the  hand  that  could  smite  caresses.  Prayer  is  no  longer 
a  bargain ;  it  is  the  free  intercourse  of  love.  I  do  not 
ask  certain  gifts  of  God,  and  promise  Him  in  return 
certain   duties.     The   merchandise  of  love   knows  no 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  249 

tariff.  The  child  does  not  love  the  father  because  he 
ought  to  love,  but  because  he  cannot  help  it.  I  love 
God  because  He  has  first  loved  me.  And  so  life 
moves  out  of  the  shadow  of  fear  into  the  atmosphere 
of  perfect  sunshine.  I  love,  and  the  world  is  all 
sunshine  to  love.  Why  should  I  trouble  about  the 
disposition  of  my  life  ?  The  Father  knows  what  things 
I  have  need  of.  Why  should  I  fear  sorrow  or  death  ? 
Whether  I  live  or  die  it  is  nothing  to  me  ;  I  am  the 
Lord's.  "  Who  shall  separate  me  from  the  love  of 
Christ  ?  Shall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or  persecution, 
or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or  sword  ?  I  am 
persuaded  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  things 
present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth, 
nor  any  other  creature  shall  be  able  to  separate  me 
from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  my 
Lord."  So  the  great  Litany  ends  in  one  long  chorus 
of  rejoicing,  and  the  hallelujahs  of  that  chorus  shall 
reign  for  ever  and  ever. 

^'  Show  us  the  Father  then,"  says  Philip,  "  and  it 
sufficeth  us."  What  was  it  that  Philip  expected?  Is 
it  some  sudden  unsealing  of  the  heavens,  some  tre- 
mendous vision  of  the  Omnipotent  and  Eternal  ?  Jew 
as  he  is,  with  all  the  sublime  words  of  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures  ringing  in  his  memory,  words  that  set  forth 
the  unapproachableness  of  God,  the  flame  of  His  awful 
purity  which  angels  cannot  look  upon,  the  intense  in- 
effable glory  before  which  all  the  light  of  all  the  worlds 
pales  its  ineffectual  splendour, — can  he  suppose  that 
he   is   able   to  look  upon   such  a  vision  ?      Is   it  the 


250  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

sublime  defiance  of  despair  which  cries,  ''  Let  me  see 
it,  though  I  perish,  so,  at  least,  I  perish  sufficed  and 
satisfied,  and  every  doubt  set  at  rest "  ?  That,  at 
least,  has  been  the  cry  of  noble  human  spirits  who 
have  sought  by  fast  and  penance,  and  arduous  purifi- 
cation, to  fit  themselves  for  the  vision  of  God,  and  who 
would  have  been  content  to  die  if  they  could  but 
have  seen  for  a  single  moment  the  vision  of  the  infinite 
God  revealed  and  made  manifest  to  them.  But  it  is 
not  thus  that  God  reveals  Himself  The  reply  of 
Christ  is :  "  He  that  hath  seen  Me  hath  seen  the 
Father."  That  is  to  say,  all  that  you  can  see  or  know 
of  God  is  manifest  in  Jesus  Christ.  And  what  God  is 
you  may  measure  by  v/hat  Christ  was.  Think  of  the 
hands  that  healed  and  the  heart  that  loved  ;  think  of 
the  purity  of  Him  in  whom  even  His  worst  foes  could 
find  no  sin  or  reproach  ;  think  of  the  compassion  which 
never  tired  of  toiling  for  the  ungrateful ;  think  of  the 
patience  which  tolerated  and  taught  the  ignorance  of 
men  like  Peter  and  Philip ;  think  of  the  tenderness  for 
all  weakness  and  the  sympathy  with  all  suffering ;  and 
remember  also  the  hatred  of  all  injustice  arid  tyranny 
and  wrong  that  was  in  Jesus  Christ.  Picture  that,  and 
you  see  God.  Perfect  light  we  cannot  see  :  '*  Light 
untempered  would  be  annihilation.  Light  is  only 
beautiful,  only  available  for  Hfe,  when  it  is  tempered 
with  shadow.  Pure  light  is  fearful  and  unendurable 
by  humanity."  And  it  is  in  the  humanity  of  Christ  we 
find  that  shadow  through  which  the  pure  light  of  God 
is  tempered  to  our  vision.     Happy  he  who  sees  that 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  251 

vision,  to  whom  the  shadow  is  a  help  to  vision  and 
not  a  hindrance,  an  interpreter  of  hght  and  not  an 
enemy,  to  whom  Christ  has  no  need  to  address  the 
pathetic  reproach  of  this  text  :  "  Have  I  been  so  long 
time  with  you,  and  hast  thou  not  known  Me,  Philip  ?  " 
''  Show  us  the  Father."  It  may  be  the  cry  of  despair 
in  the  presence  of  the  grim  facts  of  nature.  Men 
have  said,  "  Where  is  there  any  sign  of  the  mercy  of 
God  in  nature  ?  "  One  of  our  greatest  naturalists* — or 
perhaps  I  should  be  more  correct  if  I  said  our  greatest 
writer  upon  nature — has  told  us  that  nature  cares 
nothing  for  man;  she  is  blind  and  deaf;  she  does 
nothing  for  him,  and  she  can  do  nothing  for  him ; 
man  must  do  everything  for  himself.  The  most  trivial 
observer  sees  nature  ''red  in  tooth  and  claw  with 
rapine,"  and  is  appalled  at  the  ruthless  cruelties  of 
life ;  and  Paul  acknowledges  that  ''  all  creation  travails 
together  in  pain  until  now;"  and  the  anguish  of  the 
world  is  never-ending.  Do  you  say,  ''Where  is  the 
Father  in  all  this  ?  Is  not  the  law  of  life  sorrow,  and 
is  not  life  full  of  everlasting  cruelties  ?  "  Do  you  cry 
in  despair,  "  Show  us  the  Father  caring  for  His  crea- 
tures, and  it  suffices  "  ?  Christ  asks  you,  was  He  cruel  ? 
Did  ever  any  living  thing  suffer  at  His  Hands  ?  Was 
not  He  a  Beneficent  Presence  bringing  light  and  heal- 
ing everywhere  ?  Laws  there  may  be,  and  must  be  ; 
but  though  the  leper  is  in  the  highway,  the  paralytic  in 
the  temple,  and  the  dead  child  in  the  home,  Christ  was 
a  power  higher  than  law  ;  and  wherever  He  came  there 

*  Richard  Jeffries. 


252  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

was  hcciling  for  the  stripes  that  law  had  made;  and 
wl  erevcr  he  came  tie  asserted  the  supremacy  of  love. 
That,  then,  is  the  nature  of  God.  He  overrules  sorrow 
and  ]  ain.  He  causes  all  things  to  work  together 
for  good  to  those  that  love  Him.  He  knows  every 
sparrow  that  falls  to  the  ground,  and  perhaps  in  His 
love  there  is  compensation  even  for  the  sparrow's  pain. 
He  shows  us  in  Jesus  Christ  His  living  Fatherhood, 
and  it  sufficeth  us. 

**  Show  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us."  Perhaps 
it  is  with  you  the  cry  of  vain  curiosity.  You  want 
a  completer  demonstration  of  God  than  I  can  give 
you.  You  want  to  prove  His  existence  with  the 
logical  certainty  of  mathematics  ;  you  want  to  certify 
it  as  you  would  certify  a  chemical  experiment.  The 
answer  is,  that  if  you  will  but  try  to  understand  Christ 
you  will  begin  to  comprehend  God,  and  not  other- 
wise, because  He  is  the  supreme  demonstration  of 
Deity;  He  is  the  express  image  of  God's  person,  and 
the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily.  You  sweep  the 
firmament  with  piercing  scrutiny,  but  the  true  star 
shines  over  the  manger  in  Bethlehem ;  you  look  for  a 
burst  of  splendour  in  the  heavens,  but  the  revelation 
comes  to  you  in  a  little  Babe ;  you  ask  for  a  terrible  at- 
testation of  power,  God  replies  to  you  with  the  tender 
attestation  of  love.  It  is  not  with  the  intellect  that  we 
know  God,  and  it  is  not  to  the  intellect  that  God  reveals 
Himself,  but  to  the  heart ;  and  when  we  love  Christ, 
through  Christ  the  infinite  God  is  revealed  to  us,  and 
we  know  Him  whom  to  know  is  life  eternal 


THE  FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  253 


Or  it  may  be  the  cry  of  the  man  who  is  overwhelmed 
with  the  sense  of  his  own  personal  insignificance  in  the 
great  sum  of  things,  and  who  cries,  "  Show  me  the 
Father,  and  it  sufficeth  me."  You  realise  the  infinite 
multitude  of  men,  and  it  seems  altogether  unthinkable 
that  God  can  care  for  each  one.  So  you  might  argue 
that  it  would  be  impossible  that  one  sun  could  lighten 
every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world  ;  and  yet  it  is 
done,  and  every  day  there  are  millions  of  eyes  that 
rejoice  in  the  same  sunbeams.  Because  God  is  the 
Father,  this  sense  of  personal  insignificance  is  destroyed 
for  me.  I  am  no  longer  a  mere  atom  of  life  driven  and 
drifted  along  the  great  vortex  of  time  and  death.  I  am 
an  individual  with  a  birthright  and  with  a  destiny.  The 
father  cannot  help  knowing  his  child,  and  the  child  the 
father.  We  move  in  the  cognisance  of  the  Father's  eye, 
and  the  embrace  of  heaven  is  upon  us.  To  mere  power 
we  might  be  mere  atoms,  unconsidered  dust-motes, 
floating  in  the  cold  light  of  eternity ;  but  to  love  we  are 
individuals  to  be  loved  with  discriminating  tenderness, 
and  in  the  love  of  God  we  are  sufficed  and  satisfied.  Oh 
the  sense  of  infinite  peace  that  falls  upon  us  when  we 
realise  for  the  first  time  that  we  are  brought  into 
personal  relation  as  sons  with  the  blessed  Father ! 
And  that  you  may  realise  now  and  here.  This  is  the 
Gospel  I  preach  to  you,  my  brothers,  that  you  may 
know  the  Father.  That  is  the  Gospel  that  Jesus  Christ 
preached.  There  is  no  other  gospel ;  it  is  the  Gospel 
that  sufficeth  men. 

In  the  life  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher  there  is  a  very 


254  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD, 


Striking  passage.  A  young  man  wrote  to  the  great 
preacher  and  said  to  him  :  "  I  am  sinking  down  into 
the  depths  of  shame :  preach  the  terrors  of  hell  to 
me — anything  to  me — I  shall  be  at  the  church  next 
Sabbath — anything  that  will  save  me."  The  preacher 
said,  "  That  night  I  preached  about  the  Fatherhood 
of  God  :  I  felt,  if  that  would  not  save  him,  nothing 
would."  That  is  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  to  you, 
my  brother.  Is  it  clear?  Do  we  now  understand 
what  it  was  that  Christ  wanted  us  to  know  about 
God  ?  Have  we  now  grasped  the  great  conception 
of  God  that  Jesus  Christ  would  flash  home  upon 
our  spiritual  intelligence  ?  If  you  are  not  quite 
clear  about  it,  listen  !  Listen  to  the  words  of  Jesus 
Christ  Himself;  and  they  shall  close  my  sermon  for 
me.  This  is  His  word  about  a  wayward  and  dis- 
obedient child  :  "  But  when  he  was  yet  a  great  way  off, 
his  father  saw  him,  and  had  compaj^ion,  and  ran,  and 
fell  on  his  neck,  and  kissed  him.  And  the  son  said 
unto  him.  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven,  and  in 
thy  sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son. 
But  the  father  said  to  his  servants,  Bring  forth  the 
best  robe,  and  put  it  on  him  ;  and  put  a  ring  on  his 
hand,  and  shoes  on  his  feet  :  and  bring  hither  the 
fatted  calf,  and  kill  it;  and  let  us  eat,  and  be  merry: 
for  this  my  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive  again  ;  he  was 
lost,  and  is  found.  And  they  began  to  be  merry." 
There  is  the  complete  picture  of  Fatherhood,  both  in 
its  severity  and  goodness.  Behold  the  severity  which 
will  not  allow   men  to   fall  without   being   hurt,  and 


THE   FATHERHOOD   OF  GOD.  255 

ordains  for  prodigals  who  spend  their  substance  in 
riotous  Hving,  the  bitter  pains  and  penalties  of  dis- 
obedience. Behold  the  goodness,  which  has  compassion 
on  them  when  they  are  yet  a  great  way  off,  because 
they  are  still  children  dear  to  the  parent's  heart. 
They  began  to  be  merry,  and  the  universe  resounds 
with  that  Divine  merriment,  with  that  infinite  and 
unspeakable  joy  still,  when  son  and  father  meet. 
Do  you  wish  to  know  what  Christ  wanted  you  to 
know  about  God  ?  Turn  to  the  fifteenth  chapter  of 
St.  Luke's  Gospel,  and  read  the  parable  of  the 
prodigal,  and  see  there  the  conception  of  God  that 
Jesus  Christ  carried  in  His  own  heart,  and  expressed 
in  His  own  life,  and  preached  to  all  who  heard  Him, 
and  preaches  to  the  world  to-day,  if  we  will  but 
listen,  if  we  will  put  aside  the  fears  and  darkness 
of  a  distorted  theology,  if  we  will  but  accept  Him 
an  J  find  rest  and  satisfaction  in  Him.  May  we  say : 
*'  Lord,  it  sufficeth  us."  '^  I  will  arise,  and  go  to 
my  Father." 


XIV. 

THE    USE    OF  MYSTERY, 

"And   Jesus  answering   saith  unto  them.  Have  faith  in  God."— 
Mark  xi.  22. 

'TnHE  incident  of  the  cursing  of  the  fig-tree  is  one 
-■-  of  the  most  remarkable  and  mysterious  in  the 
career  of  Jesus.  The  impression  which  the  occurrence 
produced  on  the  minds  of  the  disciples  we  can  readily 
understand.  There  was  something  in  this  display  of 
power  over  nature  which  awed  them  more  than  the 
healing  of  the  sick  or  the  cleansing  of  the  leper. 
Alone  among  the  miracles  this  is  a  miracle  of  cursing ; 
but  it  is  a  curse  upon  inanimate  nature,  and  for  a 
leason  which  seems  sufficient.  When  Christ  would 
show  the  retributive  aspect  of  His  power,  the  bolt  falls 
not  on  a  man,  but  on  a  tree ;  not  on  an  enemy,  but  on 
that  which  cannot  feel  loss,  and  yet  may  teach  the 
unspeakable  lessons  of  what  such  loss  means.  For  the 
first  thing  we  have  to  recollect  about  the  miracles  of 
Christ  is  that  they  were  never  purposeless,  and  never 
appealed  to  the  mere  terror  or  admiration  of  men. 
Let  there  pass  before  the  mind's  eye  the  long  array  of 
miracles,  the  great  crowd  of  lame  who  leap,  of  dumb 


THE   USE   OF  MYSTERY.  257 

who  speak,  of  lepers  who  are  cleansed,  the  mighty 
pageant  of  stormy  seas  hushed  into  silence,  and  the 
forces  of  a  hitherto  unfettered  nature  bound  into 
obedience, — and  then  ask,  Did  Christ  work  these  signs 
and  marvels  only  to  excite  the  curious  wonder  of 
men  ?  It  is  because  men  have  risen  no  higher  in  their 
conception  of  what  a  miracle  is  than  this,  that  they 
have  found  it  difficult  to  believe  in  miracles.  But  the 
true  signification  of  a  miracle  is  that  there  was  a  new, 
a  supernatural,  power  in  Christ  to  undo  the  results  of 
evil,  to  restore  lost  good,  to  set  up  a  more  beneficent 
order  among  men,  and  at  the  same  time  to  judge  and 
condemn  men.  The  miracle  is  always  more  than  a 
marvel,  it  is  a  sign. 

You  will  notice  that  Christ  does  not  make  the  fig- 
tree  barren  ;  He  simply  seals  its  barrenness  with  the 
curse  of  death.  As  it  rises  before  the  tired  eyes  of  the 
traveller,  with  its  tender  green  and  promise  of  fruit,  it 
is  a  living  deceit,  and  its  punishment  is  a  judgment  on 
deceit.  In  fact  the  only  possible  signification  of  such  a 
miracle  as  this,  is  that  it  is  an  object-lesson  and  index 
of  certain  aspects  of  Christ's  power  which  are  generally 
overlooked.  The  tree  is  stricken  because  its  profession 
is  false,  because  it  stands  like  a  bold  hypocrite  chal- 
lenging the  praise  of  men,  but  mocking  their  expecta- 
tions. Its  true  use  was  to  bear  fruit,  and  the  life  that 
has  no  fruit  is  a  life  on  which  the  doom  of  death  must 
fall,  and  ought  to  fall.  Thus,  then,  the  cursing  of  the 
fig-tree  is  the  exposition  of  the  retributive  power  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Divine  vision  which  discerns  deceit, 

17 


258  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

the  Divine  power  which  punishes  it,  the  Divine  anger 
which  consumes  it. 

But  to  the  disciples  there  was  another  and  more 
awful  thought ;  the  miracle  seemed  to  oppress  them 
with  a  sense  of  mysterious  judgment  which  they  could 
not  explain  nor  understand.  It  seemed  to  open  to 
them  a  vision  of  those  hidden  processes  of  law  which 
underlie  the  smooth  surface  of  life,  and  only  now  and 
again  startle  us  with  their  tragic  force  and  swift 
display.  Explain  it  how  they  would,  the  act  of  Christ 
was  mysterious.  And  what  do  we  mean  by  a  mystery  ? 
We  mean  something  which  we  cannot  explain  by  any 
process  of  reasoning  or  by  any  facts  of  knowledge, 
som: thing  that  baffles,  that  puzzles,  that  dismays  us. 
For  instance,  we  meet  from  time  to  time  certain  curious 
legends  of  ghostly  lore — v.arnings  conveyed  in  dreams, 
coincidences  which  set  m  more  than  accidental,  premo- 
nitions which  stir  the  blood  with  terror,  wailing  voices 
in  the  air  before  the  dea  h  of  heroes ;  as  though  some 
unseen  mechanism  in  nature  had  suddenly  acted,  and 
along  some  hidden  chords  of  sense  there  had  flashed 
the  subtle  and  supernatural  presage.  For  such  occur- 
rences we  have  but  one  word — they  are  mysterious. 
Reason  them  away  as  we  will,  according  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  laws  of  illusion  which  we  possess,  yet 
there  is  a  point  where  no  explanation  is  vouchsafed, 
and  the  mind  can  produce  no  satisfactory  solution  of 
the  problem.  Even  so  Christ  seems  to  acknowledge 
that  there  are  certain  things  in  His  actions,  certain 
processes  in  God's  providence  and  government,  which 


THE    USE   OF  MYSTERY.  259 

must  remain  for  ever  insoluble  to  man.  He  does  not 
explain  the  moral  lessons  of  His  miracle.  He  does  not 
justify  His  act.  To  the  curiosity  of  the  disciples  He 
replies  with — a  sublime  silence.  And  yet  it  is  not  a 
complete  silence.  While  He  does  not  answer  the 
query  of  the  intellect,  He  addresses  Himself  to  the 
question  of  the  heart,  and  solemnly  says,  as  though 
admitting  all  the  spiritual  difficulties  of  the  disciples 
and  sympathising  with  them, — ^^  Have  faith  in  God." 

Now  let  us  mark  how  these  words  apply  themselves 
to  our  modern  needs.  I  use  the  word  "  modern,"  but 
in  truth  all  human  needs  through  all  the  age5  are  alike; 
God  and  the  soul  of  man  alone  abide.  We  often  speak 
of  an  age  of  faith  and  an  age  of  unbelief,  as  though  at 
certain  periods  every  one  believed  and  at  others  no 
one  did,  and  as  though  such  periods  were  separated  by 
distinct  and  arbitrary  demarcations.  But  than  this  no 
assumption  can  be  falser.  The  *'  thoughts  of  m.en  are 
widened  with  the  process  of  the  suns,"  but  the  root- 
thoughts  of  men  are  always  the  same,  and  suffer  little 
change.  We  tell  ourselves  that  "  had  we  lived  in  that 
great  day"  when  Christ  moved  among  men,  belief  in 
Him  had  been  easy ;  but  I  think  that  belief  would  have 
been  certainly  not  less  difficult,  but  m.ore  difficiilt,  ia  the 
presence  of  the  human  than  the  Risen  Christ.  If  we 
believe  not  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  neither  should  we 
believe  though  one  rose  from  the  dead.  To  have 
been  born  two  thousand  years  earlier  would  not  have 
helped  us  in  the  least  degree  towards  belief.  What 
these  disciples  saw  is  what  we  see :  a  sublime,  unearthly 


26o  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

Figure,  calling  Himself  the  Son  of  God,  moving  with 
calm  majesty  and  mastery  through  the  crowded  world, 
at  once  terrible  and  tender ;  doing  things  which  make 
the  unbidden  tears  fill  our  eyes,  and  things  which  make 
the  heart  stop  with  terror,  and  thus  representing  in 
Himself  the  "goodness  and  severity  of  God."  What 
they  saw  is  what  we  see :  a  world  that  is  evermore  a 
problem,  conditions  of  society  which  shock  and  startle 
us,  goodness  interwoven  with  evil  as  clouds  are  mixed 
with  sunlight,  or  the  grey  and  crimson  threads  of  silk 
in  some  strange  and  lovely  fabric ;  a  world  where  so 
much  is  unexplained  and  inexplicable  that  there  is  a 
perpetual  call  for  faith,  and  a  perpetual  rebuke  to  the 
mere  vain-glorious  pride  of  knowledge.  In  so  far  the 
world  has  not  altered  one  jot  since  Peter  looked  upon 
the  fig-tree  in  curious  and  half-terrified  amazement. 
We  too  have  our  fig-trees,  our  mysteries  of  law  and 
judgment,  our  apparent  anomalies  in  the  Divine  order. 
We  too  are  often  full  of  pained  surprise,  nay,  more,  of 
doubt  and  dread.  And  to  us  also  Christ  speaks,  and 
it  is  no  perfect  explanation  of  the  mystery  He  vouch- 
safes ;  it  is  indeed  no  explanation  at  all :  it  is  simply 
the  quiet  voice  of  One  who  looks  up  through  the  opened 
heaven,  and  sees  behind  the  rolling  thunder-cloud  and 
angry  lightning  the  face  of  the  Father  in  heaven,  and, 
pointing  to  that  vision  of  a  throned  and  mighty  Love, 
says,  *'  Have  faith  in  God." 

Let  the  words  be  applied  to  mysteries  0/ nafure  :  for 
obviously  this  fig-tree,  thus  withered  at  a  word,  was  a 
miracle  of  nature,  appalling,  startling,  inexplicable.     In 


THE   USE  OF  MYSTERY,  261 


like  manner  we  are  face  to  face  to-day  with  a  vision  of 
nature  which  appals  and  thrills  us.     It  is  no  arbitrary 
or  isolated  miracle   we  behold:  it  is  the  vision  of  a 
gigantic    miracle   slowly   evolving   itself    through   un- 
counted ages,  the  stairs  of  life  widening  as  they  rise 
higher,  the  forms  of  life  rising  out  of  one  another  in 
vast  phantom-like  procession,  all  life  linked  with  life 
from   the   lowest   to    the   highest,    and   betraying    its 
relationship  in  a  veracity  of  likeness  beyond  dispute ; 
and,  above  all,  this  gigantic  process  going  on,  as  if  of 
its  own  will,  with  a  pitiless,  unerring  precision,  kind 
only  to  the  strong,   pitiless   to   the  strong  and  weak 
alike.     That   is  the  vision  of  the  mystery  of  nature 
which  confronts  us  to-day.     Age  by  age  the  curiosity 
of  man  has  questioned  nature,  and  the  patience  of  man 
has  wrested  her   secrets   from   her.      Like   one  who 
penetrates  into  the  vast  silence  of  the  mountain  ice- 
world,  and   brings  back  stories  of  what  is  there,  so 
marvellous  that  he  who  dwells  in  the  valleys  cannot 
comprehend  them,   so   a  long  line  of  great  scientists 
have  returned  from  the  secret  places  of  nature,  and  have 
startled  us  with  the  strangeness  of  their  .revelations. 
Little  by  little  the  great  chain  of  evidence  has  been 
welded  together,  and  the  inherited  ideas  of  men  have 
perished  before  its  force.     But  how  have  men  received 
such  evidence?     What  have   they   said?     What  did 
the  world  say  to  Galileo  when  he  pierced  the  secret  of 
the  stars,  or  Columbus  when  he  calculated  the  secret 
of  the    waters?     What  did   the   Puritans  say  to   the 
revelations  of  astronomy  ?     What  did  our  fathers  say 


26a  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

when  geology  began  to  reveal  the  age  of  the  earth,  and 
to  lift  the  veil  from  a  world  not  six  thousand  years  old, 
but  six  thousand  times  six  thousand  ?  These  revela- 
tions were  to  them  little  short  of  blasphemies,  and 
were  resisted  with  intolerant  disdain.  They  assumed 
that  all  that  could  be  known  of  God  they  knew,  and 
that  any  fresh  knowledge  was  a  delusion  and  a  lie. 
The  httle  transcript  of  nature  which  they  had  prepared 
was  to  them  the  charter  of  the  universe,  and  to  deny  it 
was  to  deny  God.  In  a  word,  they  had  not  faith  in 
God.  They  found  it  hard  to  learn  the  lesson  of  the 
use  of  mystery.  •  They  could  not  trust  God  to  survive 
the  revelation  of  the  scientist,  and  therefore  they 
treated  science  as  necessarily  opposed  to  God.  Has 
that  temper  quite  departed  ?  Are  not  men's  hearts 
still  full  of  fear,  foolish  fear,  futile  fear,  because  science 
is  revealing  new  mysteries  in  nature?  Do  they  not 
act  as  though  they  were  afraid  God  could  not  take  care 
of  Himself?  And  because  they  are  afraid  therefore 
they  are  unjust  and  intolerant,  for  there  is  nothing  so 
unjust  and  intolerant  as  fear.  What  if  our  inherited 
ideas  of  natural  law  do  perish  ?  Truth  must  stand 
whatever  perishes.  The  God  who  has  survived  astro- 
nomy and  geology  will  also  survive  biology  and 
evoluticj.  "  Have  faith  in  God,"  says  Jesus.  There 
are  unexplored  remainders  of  knowledge,  and  ever  will 
be :  there  are  mysteries  of  nature  which  dazzle  and 
confound  us ;  and  this  is  so,  simply  because  the  law 
of  progress,  which  applies  neither  to  God  nor  to  the 
beast,  does  apply  to  man,  and  the  discovery  of  igno- 


THE  USE  OF  MYSTERY.  263 

ranee  is  the  condition  of  progress.  And  there  are 
revelations  of  law  and  judgment  which  will  some  day 
come  to  light  and  will  explain  the  things  that  are  now 
mysterious,  just  as  the  lost  line  of  some  ancient  poem, 
when  we  find  it,  gives  us  the  clue  and  meaning  long 
concealed.  But  whatever  happens,  "  Have  faith  in 
God  ! "  Before  the  mountains  were  brought  forth,  or 
ever  the  earth  and  the  world  were  formed,  from  ever- 
lasting to  everlasting  He  is  God.  The  word  that  opens 
the  book  of  history  is  "  In  the  beginning  God," — God 
creating,  God  thinking,  God  governing ;  and  in  the 
end  the  last  word  will  still  be,  God.  And  so  our  fear 
passes  into  faith,  our  confused  darkness  into  light,  as 
we  hear  from  the  great  abyss  of  Time  the  breathing 
of  a  mighty  Voice  which  says,  "  Why  art  thou  dis- 
quieted in  vain  ?     Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God." 

So,  also,  the  counsel  of  Christ  applies  itself  to  the 
mysteries  of  judgment  in  human  life,  with  which  we  are 
confronted.  It  was  the  mysterious  judgment  which 
had  fallen  on  the  fig-tree  which  perplexed  the  disciples. 
Suddenly  and  invisibly  the  blow  had  fallen,  and  there 
before  them  in  the  morning  light  stood  the  ruined  tree, 
its  foliage  withered  as  with  the  fires  of  shame,  its  life 
and  beauty  brought  to  an  ignominious  end.  And  even 
so  we  look  upon  terrible  dramas  of  human  life  which 
confound  and  perplex  us.  We  see  them  among  men. 
Here  is  a  man  at  the  very  height  of  earthly  prosperity 
and  success.  Suddenly  he  is  withered.  A  mysterious 
judgment  has  fallen  on  him.  In  a  moment  his  wealth 
has  vanished,  on  the  point  of  public  triumph  he  becomes 


264  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

a  gibbering  paralytic,  in  the  full  heyday  of  fame  some 
damning  secret  of  his  past  life  is  ripped  open,  and  his 
career  is  ended.  We  pass  him  by  and  see  in  him  a 
monument  of  ruin.  There  is  something  pathetic  in 
his  disaster  which  appeals  to  us,  just  as  we  can  readily 
conceive  that  the  passer-by  would  find  that  there  was 
something  pathetic  in  this*  blasted  tree,  standing  bare 
and  scorched,  like  a  leper  among  its  fellows,  which 
far  and  wide  lifted  their  green  boughs  in  the  tossing 
breeze  and  happy  sunshine.  What  has  the  man  done 
that  this  appalling  fate  should  overtake  him  ?  Why 
has  this  happened  to  him  ?  There  are  thousands  as 
bad  as  he,  just  as  every  hillside  of  Palestine  had  its 
barren  fig-trees  which  made  a  specious  show  of  fruit. 
Why  w^as  he  selected  for  this  overwhelming  vengeance? 
As  we  pass  in  the  morning  light,  there  stands  this 
ruined  man,  a  tragic  figure,  an  embodied  mystery 
of  judgment,  haunting  our  imagination  with  strange 
thoughts,  and  suggesting  painful  reminiscences  for 
many  a  day.  Who  can  explain  it  ?  Christ  does  not. 
He  says,  "  Have  faith  in  God,"  because  it  needs  faith  to 
interpret  judgment.  Men  sometimes  question  me  about 
the  origin  of  evil,  and  ask  me  how  I  can  satisfactorily 
explain  that?  I  cannot  explain  it,  and  I  will  not  argue 
with  them.  It  is  a  baffling  circle  in  which  the  mind 
travels  evermore,  unresting  and  unrcsted,  till  at  last 
darkness  closes  down,  and  the  fierce  tension  of  the 
brain  ends  in  death  or  madness.  Christ  gives  me  a 
wiser  counsel  when  He  says.  Do  not  seek  to  know  it. 
Be  content  with  such  knowledge  as  is  given,  and  have 


THE   USE   OF  MYSTERY.  265 

faith  in  God,  that  He  who  has  made  the  world,  and  in 
the  beginning  said  it  was  ''very  good,"  will  do  all 
things  well,  and  in  the  end  will  finish  His  work  with 
a  new  h raven  and  a  new  earth,  wherein  dwelleth 
righteousness. 

Or  we  see  such  mysteries  of  judgment  on  a  larger 
scale  among  nations.  Suddenly,  as  though  smitten 
by  a  secret  disease,  nations  wither  away.  Sometimes 
by  the  shock  of  unexpected  battle,  sometimes  by  the 
swift  outburst  of  hidden  and  destructive  forces,  a 
nation  is  blotted  out,  and  the  morning  light  rises  on 
a  gigantic  ruin,  a  smoking  plain  where  Sodom  stood, 
a  wilderness  of  sand  and  lava  where  yesterday  was 
Pompeii.  Who  can  reflect  on  such  a  spectacle  un- 
moved ?  Who  has  not  had  solemn  and  searching 
thoughts,  which  he  has  scarce  dared  to  utter  to  himself, 
in  picturing  such  a  tragedy  ?  Who  does  not  say, 
It  may  be  the  nation  was  corrupt  and  deserved  to 
perish,  but  see,  the  innocent  suffer  with  the  guilty, 
the  babe  perishes  with  the  mother,  the  only  son  of 
the  widow  is  trampled  down  on  the  bloody  field,  from 
which  the  man  who  made  the  war  escapes ;  the  bullet 
strikes  the  bravest  and  spares  the  guiltiest.  Is  this 
fair?  Is  this  just?  Is  this  the  discrimination  we 
expect  of  Deity,  or  is  it  the  mere  madness  of  wild 
chance,  which  sweeps  like  a  storm,  irresponsible  and 
ruinous,  across  a  land?  And  again  the  one  reply  is, 
"Have  faith  in  God."  Who  are  we  to  measure  the 
methods  of  the  Divine  judgment,  we  whose  judgments 
are  so  faulty,  whose  keenest  discriminations  are  sp  full 


266  THE   THRESHOLD  OF  MANHOOD. 

of  error  ?  How  do  we  know  what  recompense  God 
has  hereafter  for  those  who  suffer  innocently  in  the 
overthrow  of  guilt  ?  How  can  we  judge  or  foresee 
the  Divine  reconstruction  which  will  presently  arise  out 
of  the  calamity  which  appals  us  ?  He  who  knows 
nothing  of  surgery  might  denounce  the  inhuman 
butchery  of  the  surgeon's  knife  :  but  science  knows 
nothing  of  butchery, — it  calls  such  work  by  another 
name,  and  says  that  though  the  knife  be  called  severity 
the  hand  that  holds  the  knife  is  mercy.  National 
putrefaction  is  a  worse  thing  for  the  world  than  national 
extirpation,  and  when  God's  judgments  are  written  in 
flaming  ruin  across  a  land,  there  is  at  least  driven 
home  to  the  heart  of  nations  the  truth  of  an  eternal 
Righteousness  which  cannot  be  mocked  with  impunity. 
In  such  hours  of  national  crisis  the  greatest  spirits 
learn  to  say  as  Emerson  said  of  the  American  civil 
war,  *'I  shall  always  respect  war  hereafter.  The 
waste  of  life,  the  dreary  havoc  of  comfort  and  time,  are 
overpaid  by  the  vistas  it  opens  of  eternal  life,  eternal 
law,  reconstructing  and  upholding  society."  The  sun 
rose  upon  Sodom  as  Lot  entered  into  Zoar.  There 
lay  the  blackened  plain  indeed ;  but  high  above  the 
drifting  smoke-cloud  which  rolled  upward  from  that 
glut  of  death,  there  rose  the  serene  unsullied  sun,  the 
fair  new  day ;  and  so,  once  more,  a  quiet  Voice  calls  us 
from  the  regions  where  the  new  day  is  being  born  and 
new  nations  are  always  being  trained  into  greatness, 
''  Be  not  afraid.     Have  faith  in  God  !  " 

The  same  counsel  applies  to  all  the  social  problems 


THE   USE   OF  MYSTERY.  267 

which  distract  our  times.  Civilisation  is  the  history  of 
systems  which  have  seemed  perfect  in  their  day,  but 
which  at  last  have  borne  no  fruit  of  use  or  beauty,  and 
therefore  have  withered  away.  We  too  stand  amid 
the  decay  of  social  systems.  The  England  of  the 
knight  has  given  place  to  the  England  of  the  worker, 
the  wealth  of  inheritance  to  the  wealth  of  commerce, 
the  England  of  villages  to  an  England  of  cities,  and  the 
time  is  full  of  the  death-cries  of  the  old  and  the  birth- 
throes  of  the  new.  Do  we  despair  ?  Does  the  future 
seem  to  us  big  with  terror  ?  Is  there  the  stir  of  revo- 
lution in  the  air  ?  No  true  Christian  dare  despair. 
The  temper  of  Christianity  is  a  wise  optimism  founded 
on  moral  certitude  and  faith.  *'The  old  changes, 
giving  place  to  new,"  but  nevertheless  God  does  "  fulfil 
Himself  in  many  ways."  He  still  sits  above  the  Time- 
flood,  and  if  we  do  believe  in  Him  with  all  our  hearts, 
fear  will  not  afflict  us  with  its  shuddering  and  dismay : 
for  amid  the  wreck  of  all  human  systems  and  kingdoms, 
we  shall  see  that  kingdom  which  cannot  be  shaken 
rising  into  everlasting  domination.  There  is  no  sterner 
or  diviner  lesson  which  we  need  to  learn  than  this, 
that  throughout  God's  universe  the  one  title  to  life  is 
use,  and  when  use  ends  the  quick  judgments  of  God 
destroy  that  which  has  already  become  a  mockery  and 
a  fraud.  But  it  is  the  misfortune  of  our  ignorance  not 
always  to  know,  indeed  seldom  to  detect,  when  the 
period  of  use  is  past  in  systems  and  institutions.  To  us 
they  appear  as  the  fig-tree  appeared  to  the  disciples, — 
still  sturdy,  still  vigorous,  Hfting  themselves  up  in  pride 


268  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

and  beauty,  and  we  are  unconscious  that  the  spreading 
foHage  covers  no  fruit,  and  that,  measured  by  the  only 
true  test,  the  test  of  use,  they  are  already  worse  than 
worthless.  Oh,  be  sure  of  it,  no  institution,  no  system 
of  society,  no  code  of  social  order,  has  ever  existed 
that  was  not  in  the  first  place  justified  by  its  uses ;  and 
none  has  ever  perished  till  its  period  of  use  was  past, 
and  already  corruption  had  eaten  out  its  heart.  Amid 
the  dissolution  of  old  forms  of  society  in  which  we 
stand  to-day,  this  then  is  our  hope, — God  still  rules,  and 
He  is  just.  He  will  destroy  nothing  that  is  worth 
keeping.  He  whose  power  guided  and  controlled  the 
monastic  age  and  the  feudal  age,  will  not  forsake  us  in 
the  vast  democratic  age  which  has  now  burst  upon  us. 
Let  the  old  perish :  let  us  embrace  the  new  and  salute 
without  fear  that  strange  dawn  which  grows  upon  us. 
For,  as  men  hear  out  of  the  gray  heights  when  the 
light  is  just  breaking  the  chimes  of  some  great  cathe- 
dral tower,  uttering  silver  voices,  sacred  music,  holy 
anthems,  carillons  of  hope,  above  the  waking  city  and 
the  sleeping  earth,  so  we  hear  above  all  the  movements 
of  human  society,  in  the  hush  of  prayer,  the  voice  of 
Christ  speaking,  and  saying,  "  Have  faith  in  God.'* 

Or  apply  the  counsel  again  to  the  judgments  of  a 
Future  world.  The  very  idea  of  faith  implies  that 
which  is  unseen,  that  which  eludes  the  senses,  and 
hence  is  full  of  mystery.  If  the  judgments  we  see 
below  be  mysterious,  how  much  more  mysterious  those 
that  are  beyond.  How  dreadful  and  overwhelming, 
almost  too  terrible  for  contemplation,  is  the  idea  of  the 


THE   USE   OF  MYSTERY.  269 


final  adjudication  on  all  human  affairs,  the  summing-up 
and  completion  of  all  human  life  !     How  appaUing  that 
vision    of    barrenness   confirmed    in    barrenness,    and 
deceit  fixed  in  unalterable  revelation  of  its  own  nature, 
when  God  separates  the  sterile  from  the  fruitful,  the 
sheep  from  the  goats!     What  wonder  that  the  eager 
eyes  of  men  strain  into  the  great  darkness,  and  that  we 
long  to  read  the  mystery.     What  wonder  that  the  idea 
of  individual  life  going  on  through  endless  ^ons  some- 
times   seems    unthinkable,    and    the    idea   of  age-long 
pain  unbearable.     What  wonder,  too,  that  a  hundred 
instances    of  human  lives— bad,  but  not  wholly  bad  ; 
vitiated,  but  not  quite  vile ;  failures,  yet  touched  with 
som^e  possibilities  of  success  never  ripened  into  activity 
on  earth— suggest  themselves  to  us,  and  we  ask  with 
tremulous   hope  what  judgment   shall  the  God  of  the 
whole  earth  pass  on  these?     What  shall  be  said  of 
those    cursed    by  heredity,— the    drunkard's   son   who 
became    a   drunkard,    the  harlot's  daughter  who  is  a 
cast-away  ?     What  shall  be  said  to  those  nurtured  in 
crime,  with  but  the  faintest  chances  of  good  or  know- 
ledge, and  those  chances  snatched  from  them  by  the 
cruel  irony  of  life  and  the  uncharitable  callousness  of 
man  ?     How  about  those  who  wither  and  bear  no  fruit 
because  no  kind  hand  nurtured  them  when  the  sap  of 
life  began  to  flow,  or  trained  them  when  the  hour  of 
leafage  came  ?     It  is  thus  our  thought  pierces  into  the 
unrevealed  future,  and  flutters  back  again,  like  a  bird 
that  meets   an   icy  air   and    is  afraid  and  faint.     We 
should  not  be  human  if  we  did  not  have  such  thoughts, 


270  THE   THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

if  we  did  not  sometimes  feel  what  Wordsworth  called 
the  burden  of  this  "unintelHgible  world." 

These  obstinate  questionings  are  as  old  as  human 
thought,  and  what  answer  is  there  to  them  ?  Simply  this, 
*'  Have  faith  in  God."  There  are  many  things  God  has 
not  revealed,  and  they  are  hidden  that  we  may  learn  to 
trust  Him.  The  use  of  mystery  is  that  it  is  the  school 
of  faith.  We  have  to  trust  God's  wisdom  as  well  as 
His  love,  and  accept  the  unrevealed  in  meekness  as  well 
as  the  revealed  in  thankfulness.  We  must  submit  our 
intellect  not  less  than  our  heart  to  God,  and  serve  Him 
with  our  ignorance  as  well  as  with  our  wisdom.  Know- 
ing God  is  Love,  we  must  have  faith  in  God  that  Love 
will  not  fail  to  do  the  uttermost  of  which  Love  is  capable 
for  every  creature  it  has  made,  and  to  our  murmurs 
and  our  tears  the  voice  of  Him  who  inhabiteth  eternity 
replies,  ^'What  thou  knowest  not  now,  thou  shalt  know 
hereafter,  for  thou  shalt  know  even  as  thou  art  known." 

There  are  two  or  three  lessons  that  remain  ;  and  first 
we  must  grasp  as  the  great  vital  truth  of  all  religion, 
that  God  is  good,  God  is  wise,  God  is  over  all.  There 
are  nations  which  have  cast  out  the  idea  of  God,  and 
have  done  it  boldly.  Greece,  in  her  decline,  denied  her 
gods  and  brake  their  carven  images.  France  in  the 
fury  of  the  Revolution  spat  upon  the  name  of  God,  and 
would  not  retain  God  in  her  knowledge.  We  English- 
speaking  peoples  have  never  done  that,  but  we  have 
done  that  which  is  worse.  We  have  said,  "  There  is 
indeed  a  God,  but  His  government  is  defective;  there 
are  flaws  in  His  order  and  errors  in  the  process  of  His 


THE    USE   OF  MYSTERY,  271 


law ;  He  orders,  but  He  does  not  govern ;  He  commands, 
but  it  does  not  stand  fast ;  we  praise  His  mercy  and 
His  justice,  but  we  do  really  believe  in  neither  of  these 
things,  and  therefore,  though  we  honour  His  name  with 
public  reverence.  He  has  no  place  in  our  hearts,  and 
no  real  rule  in  our  lives;"  and  that  is  worse  than 
saying  boldly  and  defiantly,  *' There  is  no  God.'*  It  is 
atheism  set  to  hymn-tunes ;  it  is  atheism  with  the  rags 
of  worship  left  to  cover  its  deformity  and  nakedness. 
This  mere  outward  worship  of  a  God  who  does  not 
rule  our  hearts  or  inspire  our  lives,  has  no  power  either 
to  bless  or  purify,  to  teach  us  courage  in  the  conflicts 
of  time  or  humiUty  before  the  mystery  of  eternity. 
There  is  but  one  way  of  believing  in  God  which  brings 
us  peace,  and  that  is  to  believe  in  Him  with  all  our 
hearts.  If  God  is,  we  must  needs  believe  He  does  all 
things  well ;  if  He  does  things  ill,  it  is  better  for  us 
that  God  should  not  be.  To  believe  that  God  is  over 
all,  over  all  judgment,  retribution,  and  calamity,  and 
that  He  rules  wisely,  is  the  main  article  of  any  true  and 
vital  piety.  Have  you  that  faith  in  God  ?  If  you  have 
it  not,  in  very  truth  you  have  no  God  ;  you  are  without 
God,  and  without  hope  in  the  world. 

And  then,  too,  we  have  to  learn  that  part  of  the 
discipline  of  life  is  faith.  If  all  were  known  there 
would  be  no  room  for  trust  :  for  trust  is  the  eye  which 
sees  Him  who  is  invisible,  the  hand  that  pushes  itself 
out  into  the  unknown. 

"  You  must  mix  some  uncertainty 
With  faith,  if  you  would  have  faith  be. 


273  THE    THRESHOLD   OF  MANHOOD. 

The  use  of  mystery  is  seen  in  the  training  of  th^se 
faci  1  ies  of  the  soul  which,  Hke  some  of  ihe  fairest 
flov  ers,  thrive  best  in  shadow,  and,  indeed,  can  thrive 
wtll  nowhere  else.  We  might  desire  a  world  without 
shadow,  as  men  often  desire  a  sky  without  cloud  ;  but 
presently  we  should  complain  of  the  monotonous  rigidity 
of  the  landscape,  as  m^en  have  often  complained  of  the 
''cerulean  vacancy"  of  Italian  skies.  Mystery  is  the 
shadow  of  God,  in  which  the  flower  of  faith  prospers, 
and  attains  its  utmost  purity  and  fragrance.  We  have 
to  recollect  always  that  there  is  a  larger  life  to  come, 
and  be  content  to  wait  its  larger  revelations.  The  man 
who  lives  in  that  spirit  wdll  find  that  the  mysteries  of 
life  purify  and  elevate  him,  and  teach  him  how  to  walk 
in  childlike  humihty  of  soul,  ever  waiting  for  that  hour 
when  the  day  breaks  and  the  shadows  pass  away. 
Such  a  man  will  be  strong  for  duty  because  he  is  serene 
in  spirit,  and  amid  all  the  shocks  and  buffetings  of 
earthly  life,  will  learn  to  feel  the  spirit  of  those  lines  of 
Browning's,  often  on  the  lips  of  General  Gordon,  and 
so  applicable  to  his  steadfast  and  heroic  manhood  : 

"  I  go  to  prove  my  soul ! 
I  see  my  way,  as  birds  their  trackless  way. 
I  shall  arrive !  what  time,  what  circuit  first, 
I  ask  not :  but  unless  God  sends  His  hail, 
Or  blinding  fire-balls,  sleet,  or  stifling  snow, 
In  some  time,  His  good  time,  I  shall  arrive  1 
He  guides  me,  and  the  bird." 

Lastly,  Christ  teaches  us  that  Faith  solves  all  diffi- 
culties. *'  Say  to  this  mountain,  Be  thou  removed,  and 
be  thou  cast  into  the  sea,"  and  if  thou  shalt  not  doubt 


THE    USE   OF  MYSTERY.  273 

in  thine  heart,  it  shall  be  done  !  Inscrutable  words  ! 
They  sound  like  a  splendid  paradox,  a  brilliant  exagger- 
ation. What  do  they  mean  ?  Not  that  the  mountain 
ceases  to  be  a  mountain,  or  that  it  is  removed  bodily 
into  the  sea ;  but  that  it  ceases  to  be  an  obstacle,  its 
grim  menace  is  forgotten,  its  power  to  depress  us  is 
removed.  This  is  the  true  work  of  faith.  We  cease 
to  torture  ourselves  with  questions  impossible  of 
answer,  and  are  content  to  be  numbered  with  the 
simple.  We  know  not  how,  but  we  do  know  that  all 
things  work  together  for  good  to  those  who  love  God, 
and  that  it  "shall  be  for  ever  and  for  ever  well  with 
them."  We  see  the  vast  chaos  of  human  society,  but 
know  there  is  a  Divine  Spirit  who  broods  above  it : 
we  hear  all  the  clamour  and  turbulence  of  men,  but  we 
feel  the  presence  of  One  who  holds  the  winds  in  His 
fist,  and  hushes  the  tumult  of  the  people.  Like  little 
Pippa,  in  the  famous  poem,  we  walk  through  a  world 
where  base  and  bitter  things  abound,  but  we  have 
become  little  children  in  our  faith,  and  we  sing ; 

**  The  lark's  on  the  wing, 
I'he  morning's  at  seven, 
The  hillside's  dew-pearled, 
Cod^^  in  His  heaven^ 
Alfs  right  with  the  world* 


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300  OUTLiNES  OF  SERMONS  ON  THE  NEW  TESTAMENT. 

By  73  Eminent  English  and  American  Clergymen,  including 


Archbishop  Tait. 
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OUTLINES  OF  SERMONS  ON  THE  OLD  TESTAMENT. 


G.  S.  Barrett,  B.A. 
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Alex'r  Raleigh.  D.D. 
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A  UTHORS  OF  SERMONS 

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I 


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[OIIN  PULSFORD.  [D.D 

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EXPOSITORY  SERMONS  AND  OUTUNES  ON 
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CONTENTS: 

The  Secret  OF  A  Successful  Life.  |  A  Smooth   Road,  but  a  Fatal 

What  is  Man  ?  j       Kndlng. 

\rt  Thou  in  Health?  !  Fot:r  Anchors  out  of  Tine  Stern, 

'H^'siCAL  Recreation.  j  A  Choice  Yuung  Man. 


i  HE  Body  to  be  Careh  for. 
Strong  in  Divine  Grace. 
Giants  in  these  Days. 
Doing  Exploits. 
Fighting  the  Lion. 
The  Way  to  Prosper. 
Why  not  Confess  Christ? 


The  Model  Christian. 
Sobriety  of  Mind, 
Right  Hearts  and  Tight  Ham)s. 
Our  Father's  Business. 
The  Secret  of  Sikength, 
Our  Duty  to  God  and  Man. 


JV.  y.  observer  says:  "We  heartily  and  earnestly  recommend 
this  volume  to  all  who  are  interested  in  promoting  the  welfare  of  young 
men.  Tlie  counsel  it  gives  is  infused  with  so  much  common  sense  and  prac- 
tical wisdom,  that  it  must  command  the  respect,  if  not  the  hearty  assent, 
of  every  young  man  to  whom  it  comes." 

Christian  Herald :  "A  B  10K  FUi.L  oF  SOUND  advice  to  young  men, 
showing  that  the  most  successful  life  in  the  world  wi'hout  Christ  is  only 
failure." 

Phila.  Presb\  terian  :  "  The  eminent  author  recognizes  the  needs  of  the 
body  as  well  as  of  the  soul,  and  shows  himself  in  sympathy  with  the  aims 
and  ambitions  of  the  young.  His  style  is  clear,  and  the  arguments  are  so 
true  that  they  cannot  fail  of  conviction." 

Journal  and  Messenger :  "  A  father  may  well  put  this  work  into  the 
hands  of  his  son;  and  committees  should  make  a  note  of  it  for 

their    .SUNDAY-SCHOOL    LIBRARIES." 

Baltimore  Baptist :  "  We  should  be  glad  to  see  this  book  in  the  hands 
of  every  young  man  hi  the  land.     Good  would  result." 

N.  Y.  Witness :  "Any  one  desirous  of  awakening  \x\  a  young  man  as- 
pirations to  a  nobler  plane  of  living,  will  do  well  to  give  him  this  book." 

Zion^s  Herald:  "Practical,  plain-spoken  addresses  to  young  men. 
They  are  written  in  an  easy  and  interesting,  yet  forcible  and  pungent, 
style,  and  convey  wholesome  truths  which  all  young  men  would  do  well  ta 
follow." 

Copies  sent  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price. 

A.  C.  aHrUSTRONG  &  SON,  714  Broadway,  New  York. 


STANDARD   RELICBOUS   WORKS. 


New  and  Enlarged  [4*h]  Edition,  in  Cheaper  Form, 

OF 

CHARLES  L  BRACE'S  SESTA  CHEffl 

A  HISTORY  OF  HUMANE  PROGRESS   UNDER  CHRIS- 

TIANITY.     With  New  Preface  and  Supplement 

tary  Chapteii      540  pp.,  cloth. 

Pi-ice  reduced  from  Ss.^o  to  $1.^0. 

"  It  is  especially  adapted  to  assist  the  clergytnan  and  religious  teacher  in  hs  strug- 
gles with  honest,  thoughtful  infidelity." 

'■*  It  presents  a  storehouse  of  fiicts  bearing  on  the  influences  of  Chrislianitj'- upon 
such  important  topics  as  the  paternal  po.ver,  the  position  of  woman  under  custom  and 
law,  personal  purity,  and  marriage,  slavery,  cruel  and  licentious  sports,  and  all  matters 
of  hum.anity  and  compassion,  etc.      The  thoughtful  reader  will  here  gather  in- 

FORMATION    AHICH  COULD  ONLY  BE  OBTAINED  FROM  LIBRARIES  OR  MANV  VOl.UM'S." 

Ri'V.  D\  JR.  S,  STORllS  says:  "IT  IS  A  BOOK  THAT 
DESERVES  THE  VERY  WIDEST  CIRCULATION  FOR  ITS  CAREFUL- 
NESS AND  CANDOR,  ITS  AMPLE  LEARNING,  its  just,  discriminor 
ting  analysis  of  historical  movements  as  initiated  or  governed  by 
moral  forces,  and  for  the  fine  spirit  which  pervades  it." 

"  1  he  skill  and  industry  with  whi  :h  Mr.  Brace  has  gleaned  and  sorted  the  vast  ac- 
cumulation of  mnterial  here  gaihe.ed  together,  the  better  to  show  lorth  the  power  and 
influence,  direct  and  indirect,  of  Christ's  teachings,  is  not  only  praise-worthy,  but  even 
in  a  certain  Fense  wonderful.  He  has  a  complete  mastery  of  h:s  subject,  and  many 
chapters  in  the  book  are  of  exceeding  value  and  interest." — London  Morning  Post. 

A  NEW  and  REVISED  EDITION,  with  NEV/  MAPS  and  ILLUSTRATIONS, 

SUIEI'S  SISAf  AID  PAlESTll. 

In  Connection  with  their  History.     By  Dean  A.  P,  STANLEY. 

V/ith  7   Elaborate   and   Beautifully   Colored 

Maps,  and  other  Illustrations. 

Large  Crown  8vo  Vol.,  Cloth,  640  pp.      Price  reduced  from  $4  to  $2.^0. 

The  late  Dean  Stanley  published  a  new  and  revised  edition  of  his 
"  Sinai  and  Palestine."  In  it  he  made  considerable  adaitionsand  cor 
rections,  giving  the  work  the  final  impress  of  his  scholarship,  taste  and 
ability.  This  edition  has  been  carefully  conformed  to  the  last  Engli.sh 
edition — including  the  new  maps  and  i'llnstrations,  and  is  herewith  com- 
mended anew  AS  THE  MOST  READABLE  AS  WET.L  AS  THE 
MOST  ACCURATE  \VORK  ON  THE  SUBJECT  IN  THE  ENG- 
LISH  LANGUAGE. 

Rev  Dr.  H.  A/.  Field,  Editor  of  "A".  V.  Evans^eVstr  sxys  f  Stanley's  "Sinai 
and  Palestine"  :  "  We  had  occasion  f  )r  its  co-istant  use  in  crossing  the  d-'sert,  and  m 
journeying  through  the  Holy  Land,  and  can  bear  witness  at  once  to  its  accuracy  and  to 
the  charm  of  its  descriptions.  Of  all  the  kelps  we  had  it  -wai  by  far  the  most  cap' 
tivating.''* 

Copies  sent  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price. 

A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON,  ?t4  Broadway,  New  York* 


DATE  DUE 


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